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PROCEEDINGS 



MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY 



In j-Hrmonj of 



KDWAIII) EVERETT. 



' "^J 




(Zc/tJs&^rz^ C^e^r?yu> 



T R 1 BUTE 



MASSACH1 SETTS BISTORICAL SOCIETY, 



iTio ttir jRemor v 



EDWARD EVERETT, 



.iant vm 



BOS i ' 

i: I • VI 



■Esl^. 



T 11 1 B I I 1 



MASSAl III SETTS BISTORICAL SOCIETY 



\ g ei [AL Meeting of the Massachusetts I listorical 3 
belt] in the Dowse Library on Monday evening, Jam 

mmemorate their late illustrious I 

i The attendance was very la 

The meeting was called to o'clock by thi Pri ident, 

the Hon. ' • Winthrop, \s 1 1< > spoke as follows : — 

Ml \ OF I ill M ISS \< HOS1 I rs I I v 

'l'h ion of 1 1 1 1 — ; meeting is but too well knowi 

yon all. Non< of us were strangers to the grief which 
immunity on the recent announcement 
, of Edwai 1 1 ; :i few of us have had 

the • ' uniting with the public authorities, who 

! to assume the whole charge of his funeral, in 
ig the last tribute to his hi 
■ than o 

pression to our sense ol I 
ined by our i I ' 

wi alth, and our whole counti 

vhat more del 






4 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

he was so long one of the most valuable, as well as one 
of the most distinguished members. We are here not 
merely to unite in lamenting the close of a career which 
has been crowded with so many good words and good 
works for the community and the country at large, but 
to give utterance to our own particular sorrow for the 
breach which has been made in our own cherished circle. 

Mr. Everett was elected a member of this Society on 
the 27th of April, 1820, when he was but twenty-six 
years of age ; and, at the time of his death, his name 
stood second in order of seniority on the roll of our 
resident members. I need not attempt to say to you how 
much we have prized his companionship, how often we 
have profited of his counsels, or how deeply we have been 
indebted to him for substantial services which no one 
else could have rendered so well. 

His earliest considerable effort in our behalf was a lec- 
ture delivered before us on the 31st of October, 1833. It 
was entitled " Anecdotes of Early Local History," and will 
be found in the second volume of his collected works, — 
now lying upon our table, — with an extended note or 
appendix containing many interesting details concerning 
the Society, its objects and its members. But it is only 
within the last nine or ten years, and since his public life — 
so far as office is necessary to constitute public life — was 
brought to a close, that he has been in the way of taking 
an active part in our proceedings. No one can enter the 
room in which we are gathered without remembering how 
frequently, during that period, his voice has been heard 
among us in rendering such honors to others, as now, 



SIEM0R1 U. OF EDW U:i> : l\ 

alas, we are bo nn<-\ called mself. \ i 

one can forgel his admirable tributes to thi 
cott, to the excellent Nathan II the vi 

Quincy, among our immedial — to Daniel D. 

lard of Albany and Henr) D. Gilpin of Philadelphia, 
t.. Washington [rving, to Hallam, to Humboldt, t.» M 
caulay, among our domestic and foreign honorary memb 

Still less will any one be likelj to forgel the n<>!>l<- 
eulog5 which he pronounced, at our request, on the 9th 
of December, 1858, upon that remarkable self-made man 
whom we have ever delighted to honor as our lai 

factor, and in whose pictured presence we are at this 
moment assembled. Often as 1 have listened to our la- 
. friend, Bince the year 1824, — when 1 followed 
him with at least one other whom 1 fore mi 

Plymouth Rock, and heard his splendid discourse on the 
Pilgrim Fathers, — 1 can hardly recall anything of his, 
more striking of it- kind, or more characteristic of it- 
author, than that elaborate delineation of the life of 
Tip. mi- Dowse. No one, certainly, who was pr< 
th<- occasion, can fail t.. recall the i xhibition which he 
us, in it- delivery, of the grasp and precision of his 

lerful memory, — when in describing the collection 
,,t" v. . now in the Athenoeum gallery, which 

tli.- .ail;.-' of Mr. 1' ■• i°nsi '■ 

with. mt faltering, tin- unfamiliar nam.- "I more than 
Ihirtj <>f the .-Id n from whose works tli 

copied, and th.n turning 

librar) 
t.. ; fifty-thi authors 



6 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

of Greek and Roman literature, of nineteen of the modern 
German, of fourteen of the Italian, of forty-seven of the 
French, of sixteen or seventeen of the Portuguese and 
Spanish, making up in all an aggregate of more than oue 
hundred and eighty names of artists and authors, many of 
them as hard to pronounce as they were difficult to he 
remembered, but which he rehearsed, without the aid of 
a note and without the hesitation of an instant, with as 
much ease and fluency as he doubtless had rolled off 
the famous catalogue of the ships, in the second book of 
Homer's Iliad, with the text-book in his hand, as a col- 
lege student or as Greek professor, half a century before ! 

I need hardly add that with this library, now our most 
valued treasure, the name of Mr. Everett will henceforth 
be hardly less identified than that of Mr. Dowse himself. 
Indeed, he had been associated with it long before it was 
so munificently transferred to us. By placing yonder por- 
trait of him, taken in his earliest manhood, upon the 
walls of the humble apartment in which the books were 
originally collected, — the only portrait ever admitted to 
their companionship, — our worthy benefactor seems him- 
self to have designated Edward Everett as the presiding 
genius or patron saint of this library ; and as such he will 
be enshrined by us, and by all who shall succeed us, as 
long as the precious books and the not less precious 
canvas shall escape the ravages of time. 

I may not omit to remind you that our lamented friend 
— who was rarely without some labor of love for others 
in prospect — had at least two matters in hand for us 
at the time of his death, which he was hoping, and which 



MEMOR] \l. OF EDWA11D l.\ EK1 1 1 

hoping, that he would soou om- 

plete. One of them was a memoir of that noble patriot 

South Carolina, James Louis I' tigru, whose lif< 
devotion to the cause of the Amerii ' ion, alike in the 
days of nullification ami oi are him the 

grateful remembrance of all to whom that Union i- dear. 
The other was a volume of Washington's private letl 
which he was preparing to publish in our curreul 
of historical collection-;. It is hardly a month since ln- 
told me that the letter- were all copied, and that he was 
-mi'- ■ obliged to postpone the printing of them a 

little longer, in order to find time for the annotations 
i which he desired to accompanj them. 
I'. ii you do ii"' require to !"■ told men. that what 

Mr. Everett has done, or has proposed to do, specifically 
for our S ty, would constitute a very small part of 

all that he ha- accomplished in that cause of American 
history in which wi issociated. It i- true that he 

ha- composed no independent historical work, nor ever 
published any volume of biography more considerable 
than the excellent memoir of Washington, which he prc- 
it the suggestion of hi- friend Lord Macaulay, 
for the new edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica. Bui 
there i> qo h, — there is hardly a single g 

'. — of our national or of our colonial history, which 
Uj depicted and brilliantly illustrated 
in hi ional d I som< times thought 

no nun i or more instructive hi our 

Id he pri to tin youth of our land, than 

iml in tin which he 



8 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

has delivered during the last forty years. Collect those 
orations into a volume by themselves ; arrange them in 
their historical order : " The First Settlement of New 
England," "The Settlement of Massachusetts," "The 
Battle of Bloody Brook in King Philip's War," 
" The Seven Years' War, the School of the Revolution," 
" The First Battles of the Revolutionary War," " The 
Battle of Lexington," "The Battle of Bunker Hill," 
"Dorchester in 1630, 1776, and 1855;" combine with 
them those " Anecdotes of Early Local History," which 
he prepared for our own Society, and add to them his 
charming discourses on " The Youth of Washington," and 
" The Character of Washington," on " The Boyhood and 
the Early Days of Franklin," and his memorable eulogies 
on Adams and Jefferson, on Lafayette, on John Quincy 
Adams and on Daniel Webster, and I know not in what 
other volume the young men, or even the old men, of 
our land could find the history of the glorious past more 
accurately or more admirably portrayed. 1 know not 
where they could find the toils and trials and struggles 
of our colonial or revolutionary fathers set forth with 
greater fulness of detail or greater felicity of illustration. 
As one reads those orations and discourses at this mo- 
ment, they might almost be regarded as successive chap- 
ters of a continuous and comprehensive work which had 
been composed and recited on our great national anni- 
versaries, just as the chapters of Herodotus are said to 
have been recited at the Olympic festivals of ancient 
Greece. 

Undoubtedly, however, it is rather as an actor and an 



MEM0H1 \I. 01 1 DW \ l; 1 » EVER] 1 I 

orator in some of the 1 

history, than as an author, that Mr. I will be 

i. [ndeed, -in | on 

the stage of mature life, there has bardlj b 
of an\ sorl in that great historic drama, which of late, 

the most terrible form of 
which he has not been called to plaj a more or less 
spicuous part; and we all know how perfectlj ever) 
part which has been assigned him ha- Keen perfori 
If we follow him from the hour when he left the 
University of Cambridge, with the highest 
honor-, at an age when so many othi hardly pre- 

utc-r there, down to the fatal day when he 
uttered those last impressive words al 1 inenil Hall, we 
shall tind him ipied with the highest 

duties, and everywhere discharging those duties with 
lity and unwearied devotion. Varied and 
brilliant mplishraents, laborious ion- 

diction, marvellous memory, magnificent rhetoric a gra- 
cious ]• rious \' dent patriotism 
trolling his public career, an unsullied purity crown- 
ing hi- private life. — what element was thi ting 
in him for the compli te • mbodiment of the . ! ,t.,r. 
1 and Quinctilian - ly and ipre- 
hensively di bundrcd \ ■■• — 
• 1 1r '"///»<. diet a'/' /•■ 

But I i py more of your time in tl 

introductory remarks, int< tided only to exhibit our de- 
d friend in hi- relati d to 

n the way for I 



10 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

justice to his general career and character. Let me 
only add that our Standing Committee have requested our 
associates, Mr. Hillard and Dr. Lothrop, to prepare some 
appropriate resolutions for the occasion, and that the 
Society is now ready to receive them. 

Mr. Hillard then proceeded as follows : — 

The Psalmist says, " The days of our years are three- 
score years and ten, and if by reason of strength they be 
forescore years, yet is their strength labor and sorrow." 
The latter part of this sentence is not altogether true ; at 
least, it is not without exceptions as numerous as tbe 
rule. To say nothing of the living, we who have wit- 
nessed the serene and beautiful old age of Quincy, pro- 
tracted more tban twenty years after threescore years and 
ten, will not admit that all of life beyond that limit is of 
necessity " labor and sorrow." But in these words there 
is much of truth as this, that he who has lived to be 
threescore and ten years old should feel that he has had 
his fair share of life, and if any more years are dropped 
into his lap he must receive them as a gift not promised 
at his birth. And thus no man who dies after the age of 
seventy can be said to have died unseasonably or prema- 
turely. But the shock with Avhich the news of Mr. 
Everett's death fell upon the community was due to its 
unexpectedness as well as its suddenness. We knew 
that he was an old man, but we did not feel that he was 
such. There was nothing either in his aspect or his life 
that warned us of departure or reminded us of decaj . 
His powers were so vigorous, his industry was so great, 



MEMOIU M. "I EDWAKI) EVER] 

bis sympathies were so active, his eloquei rich 

and elowine, his on still so admirable, that be 

ire us as a man in the verj prime of life, 
when he died it was as if the sun had gone dow a I 
The impression made by his death was the highest trib- 
ute that could be paid to the worth of his life. 

In 1819, after an a 1 Ij five Mi 

Everett returned from Europe at the age of twentj 
the most finished and accomplished man that had 

\ -\ England, and it will be generally admitted 
that he maintained this superiority to the last. From 
that year down to the hour of his death hi ntl) 

e the public eye, and never without a marked and 
liar influence upon the community,! Ilj upon 

students and scholars. You and I. Mr. President, 
enough to b me under the spell of the magician at 

that earl) period of his life, when he presi nted the most 
attractive combination of graceful and blooming youth 
with mature intellectual power. The young man <•( to- 
familiar with that expression of gravity, almost ol 
Badness, which hi- has habitually worn of 

• hardl) imagine what lie then was, when his 
"bosom's lord sat light upon hi-- throne," when tin- winds 
of hope tilled his sails, and his looks and movi 
informed with a -;>iiit >A' morning fresh 
promisi 

In the fort) Me y< ,!- which |>a— < d • turn 

ad hi- death, Mr. I tlusti) was until 

the an ■ work he ae< ompl 

\\ .it he published would '•■ him t" tl 



12 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

of a very industrious man, but this forms but a part of 
bis labors. Of what has been called the master-vice of 
sloth he knew nothing. He was independent of the 
amusements and relaxations which most hard-working 
men interpose between their hours of toil. He was 
always in harness. 

Some persons have regretted that he gave so much time 
to merely occasional productions, instead of devoting 
himself to some one great work ; but without speculating 
upon the comparative value of what we have and what we 
might have had, it is enough to say that with his genius 
and temperament on the one hand, and our institutions 
and form of society on the other, it was a sort of necessity 
that his mind should have taken the direction that it did. 
For he was the child of his time, and was always in har- 
mony with the spirit of the age and country in which his 
lot was cast. He was pre-eminently rich in the fruits of 
European culture ; Greece, Rome, England, France, Italy, 
and Germany, all helped by liberal contributions to swell 
his stores of intellectual wealth, but yet no man was ever 
more national in feeling, more patriotic in motive and 
impulse, more thoroughly American in grain and fibre. 
Loving books as he did, he would yet have pined and 
languished if he had been doomed to live in the unsym- 
pathetic air of a great library. The presence, the com- 
prehension, the sympathy of his kind were as necessary 
to him as his daily bread. 

" Two words," says Macaulay, " form the key of the 
Baconian doctrine, Utility and Progress." I think these 
two words also go far to reveal and interpret Mr. 



MEM0R1 \I. OF EDWARD 13 

I tt's motives and ch S he did 

. honorable distinction, not that he did 1 
pleasure in the applause which he had fairlj earned ; 
but stronger even than these propelling impul 
his desire to be of service to his fellowmen, to do good 
in his dav ami generation. He loved his country with a 
fervid love, and he loved his race with a generous 
and comprehensive philanthropy. He was always ready 
t . . work cheerfully in any direction when If thought 
he could do anj good, though tin- labor might not !>>• 
particularly congenial to his tastes, ami would not add 
anything to hi- literary reputation. The themes which 
he li indled, during his long life of intellectual action, 
verj various, thej were treated with great afflu- 
of learning, singular beauty "t" illustration, ami 
rial- ad exquisite harmony of style, but always in 

such a way a- to bear practical fruit, ami contri 
to tin' advancement of society ami the elevation of 
humanity. 

S \| i I •• " sincere and consistent 

ad "f" |n II. u is, it is true, conservative in 

hi- instincts ami conviction-: I mean in a large and 
liberal, and not in a narrow and technical 
that he was an extreme conservative, or that lued 

an institution simply because it was old. i only 

not true. hut. I think, the reverse of truth. \\>- had ti 
•iim- i f any kind, and by the 

titution of his mind, was dispi 
middle ground which partisan zeal is pi 
with timidity or indifl But he n of 



1-4 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

generous impulses and large sympathies. No one was 
more quick to recognize true progress, and greet it 
with a more hospitable welcome. Xo man of his age 
would have more readily and heartily acknowledged the 
many points in which the world has advanced siuce he 
was young. 

It would not be seasonable here to dwell upon Mr. 
Everett's public or political career, but I may be per- 
mitted to add that I think he had a genuine faith in the 
institutions of his country, which did not grow fainter as 
he grew older. He believed in man's capacity for self- 
government, and had confidence in popular instincts. He 
was fastidious in his social tastes, but not aristocratic ; 
that is, if he preferred one man to another it was for 
essential and not adventitious qualities, for what they 
were, and not for what they had. He was uniformly 
kind to the young, and always prompt to recognize and 
encourage merit in a young person. 

Mr. Everett, if not the founder of the school of 
American deliberative eloquence, was its most brilliant 
representative. In his orations and occasional discourses 
will be found his best title to remembrance, and by 
them his name will surely be transmitted to future 
generations. In judging of them, Ave must bear in 
mind that the aim of the deliberative orator is to treat a 
subject in such a way as to secure and fix the atten- 
tion of a popular audience, and this aim Mr. Everett 
never lost sight of. If it be said that his discourses 
are not marked by originality of construction, or philo- 
sophical depth of thought, it may be replied that had 



MORIAL OF i:i>v. 15 

i, th( j would : 1 » i -i 

Thej are remarkable for a combinatioi 
qualities rarely, it' • liappih blended, and 

the grace, skill, au ivith which the 

:' thf widest cultivation are so used at 
Kt tlir common mind and touch the common 
I :. whatever were tin M I 

always took 1 1 i — audience along with bim, from * first 
tu la-t. He never -"and nr wandered out <it" their 
.t. 

I need not dwell upon tin- -insular beautj and finish 
of his elocution. Those who have heard him s\ 
will need no description of tin' peculiar charm and 

if hi- manner, and no description will give any 

piate impression of it to those who nevei heard him. 

It \\ sily caricatured but not easily imitated. 

His p an audit D unimpaired t" the 

At • \ he spoke with all the anima- 

Hon of youth, and easily filled the largest hall with that 

rich and tl the turn- n|" which time had 

■ 

II _ nization was delicate and refined, hi- tem- 

od sympathetic. The opinion 
of those whom he loved and esteemed was weight) with 
him. Pi List v- nd mon 

n who had achieved such high 
distinction. Doubtful ment ra 

. knew him but slightly, or onlj saw him on 
tin- platform with h ' irlandn" about 

him. hi 



10 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

man. He never appeared in public without a slight 
Hatter of apprehension lest he should fall short of that 
standard which he had created for himself. His want 
of self-confidence, and, in later years, his want of animal 
spirits, sometimes produced a coldness of manner, which, 
by superficial observers, was set down to coldness of 
heart, but most unjustly. 

His nature was courteous, gentle, and sweet. Few men 
were ever more worthy than he to wear " the grand 
old name of gentleman." His manners were graceful, 
moie scholarly than is usual with men Avho had been 
so much in public life as he had been, and sometimes 
covered with a delicate veil of reserve. Conflict and 
contest were distasteful to him, and it was his disposition 
to follow the things that make for peace. He had a true 
respect for the intellectual rights of others, and it was no 
fault of his if he ever lost a friend through difference of 
opinion. 

Permit me to turn for a moment to Mr. Everett's public 
life for an illustration of his character. In forensic con- 
tests, sarcasm and invective are formidable and frequent 
weapons. The House of Commons quailed before the 
younger Pitt's terrible powers of sarcasm. An eminent 
living statesman and orator of Great Britain is remarkable 
for both these qualities. But neither invective nor 
sarcasm is to be found in Mr. Everett's speeches. I 
think this absence is to be ascribed not to an intellectual 
want but to a moral grace. 

Great men, public men, have also their inner and 
private life, and sometimes this must be thrown by the 



MORIAL OF K.l'V. 1 ~, 

-t paint 
then 

In , lie always 

the higl rd which lion i ■ 

the members of that profession to which hi 

As a brother, husband, father, and frii 
then ■ duty that he did u ill that 

1 [i v rous in giving, and equally 

rous in sacrificing. Where Ik w s mosl kimun 
loved. Be was wholly free from that 
mall things whicb nun. • 
and otherw i ill into. I lis daily 

made beautiful bj a pervading spirit of thought- 
ful i ■ :i for those \\ ho s\ iod dm. 
II ul, and his bo 

1>\ a lambent play of wit 

and humor; qualities which hi in no common 

. thuiiL'li tln\ were randy displa; the 

publi Could I life 

nt which li 

with whi( li his 
. 
Y 

He 
and commonpl 

■ which h( 

born 



18 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

His industry was as methodical as it was uniform. How- 
ever busy he might be, he could always rind time for 
any service which a friend required at his hands. He 
was scrupulously faithful and exact in small things. He 
never broke an appointment or a promise. His splendid 
powers worked with all the regularity and precision of 
the mosf nicely adjusted machinery. If he had under- 
lain to have a discourse, a report, an article, ready at a 
certain time, it might be depended upon as surely as the 
rising of the sun. 

I feel that I have hardly touched upon the remark- 
able qualities of Mr. Everett's mind and character, and 
vet I have occupied as much of your time as is becoming. 
1 have only to offer a few resolutions, in which I have 
endeavored briefly and simply to give expression to what 
we all feel. 

Mr. Hillard then presented the following resolutions: — 

Resolved, That as members of the Massachusetts His- 
torical Society, we record, with mingled pride and sorrow, 
our sense of what we have lost in the death of our late 
illustrious associate, Edward Everett, the wise statesman, 
the eloquent orator, the devoted patriot, the finished 
scholar, whose long life of singular and unbroken intel- 
lectual activity has shed new lustre upon the name of our 
country in every part of the civilized world, and whose 
noble powers and unrivalled accomplishments were always 
inspired by an enlarged and enlightened philanthropy, 
and dedicated to the best interests of knowledge, virtue, 
and truth. 



MEMORIAL OF EDWAUD l!t 

/,' solved, That we recall with peculiar scnsibi 
• nal qualities and private \ irtui 
friend, the puritj and b( mtj of his daily life, bi 
allegiance lo duty, th 'It and Ins 

domestic afl , the uniform conscientiousness which 

dated hi* conduct, his r- [ > i i i t oi his 

thoughtful consideration for the rights and happiness of 
others, and the gentleness with which his Ities 

and high honors were borne. 

/; ■ ■ ./. That th I' sident "f* tl 
ted to transmit th< solutions to tin famih of 

our lamented as . with an expression of our i 

Bjmpath) with them in their loss, am ir ini-t that 

th. \ maj find consolation not merelj in the remembrance 
of hi- I, and illustrious i but in the 

hopes and proi on of which he " 

firm ml which was ever to him a stafl of 

iport through i 

The resoluti 1 by the Rev, Dr. Lollirop, who 

then addressed tin - : — 

\| I' [ rise, at 3 our request and at that 

the standing comra tl ond the resolutions which 

have just • d, and to paj my portion of the tribute 

d. and '• which 

S 
qpq| within ! 

walN and in thi 

his [>p - [feel IM;,t 

• lonclinc* and i '• '" 



20 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

common with so many, I had when I first heard that one 
who for more than forty years had been the object of my 
youthful and my mature admiration, one whose speech 
never disappointed me, but had often stirred my heart 
with pure and noble emotions, and to whom I and others 
had so long been accustomed to turn upon all occasions of 
public interest and importance, as the person who could 
do and say, in the best way, the best things to be done and 
said, was really dead, and that the utterances of his wis- 
dom and eloquence would never more be heard by us on 
earth. My sorrow, however, at his departure, the sorrow 
of all of us, I think, must be greatly softened by the 
extraordinary felicity of the time and manner of his death, 
and by the recollection of the grand and noble career of 
which that death was the close. 

In view of my profession and the pulpit which it has 
been my honor and happiness to occupy in this city, it 
may be permitted me, in glancing at his career, to speak 
with some particularity of that which was the beginning 
of it before the public — his brief but honorable connec- 
tion with the clerical profession, and his short but brilliant 
pastorate at Brattle Street Church. Mr. Everett has said, 
I believe, that on leaving college his strongest preferences 
were for the law ; but the influence and advice of friends, 
combining with the promptings of his own heart, the deep 
religious instincts of bis nature, determined his choice of 
the Christian ministry. That determination must now be 
regarded as fortunate for him and for us. He left tbe 
pulpit, indeed, shortly after he had entered it; but no 
true man ever forgets that he has stood in it, and the 



MEMORIAL OF EDWARD EVERETT. 21 

Btudies, the spiritual discipline and culture of his early 
prof( i tn me to h i ted upon Mr. I 

mind and heart blessed and important influences, which 
affected his who! quent career, and impi I lii-> 

life and character with the simple l>ut grand dignil 
purity. Graduating in 1M1. at the age of si i, he 

Bpent two years and a few months at Cambridge, pursuing 
theological studies, and discharging at the same time the 
onerous duties of a tutorship. On the UUh <>t" December, 
1813, a men- youth, who had not yet numbered twentj 

winters, he first st 1 in Brattle Street pulpit to preach 

ididate. Fame had preceded him, and told of Ins 

talents rich and rare, of his learning and his great 

•n learn, — marvellous even thru in the judgment 

of his peers and of the University, — of his extraordinary 

golden speech, his powers of winning, persuasive 

try . 

Th '. though vague and undefined expectatii 

th u- awakened, were not disappointed. I have been told 

ray who distinctly remember the occasion, th it when 

her in the pulpit that morning, a youthful modesty, 

almost timidity, blending with the dignit] which a grave 
and rev< of the importance of hi> office inspired. 
i inn to li i -. manner, and that from the 
ned hi-' li[>^. the audience were held spell- 
bound t'> tin- end of tin- Bcrvii i When the days of liis 
numbered, the universal cry 
name of the Lord : brc ik unto n- 
the bread <d life, and let all these ii> h ad their 

ind tlnir glory in the scrvi f f li< M 



22 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

here anions: us." He heard the crv as the leadings of 
Providence, and came. His ordination, on the 9th of 
February, 1814, was an occasion of as deep interest as 
any event of the kind ever excited. The most eminent 
and excellent men of that day took part in it. It brought 
a perfect satisfaction to the people. It awakened the 
most brilliant anticipations. It was accompanied not 
simply with the hope, but with the conviction, that the 
former glory of that pulpit, which the death of Buckmins- 
ter had veiled for a season, would be re with in- 

creased and increasing splendor. That conviction was 
verified. As the months rolled on, Bi S Church, 

then near the residences rather than the business of the 
people, was crowded Sunday after v with audiences 

ol the intelligent and the cultivated, who went away 
charmed, instructed, religiously imj — . I ; and the 
records oi the communion show that it xt is - son of 
spiritual growth as well as itward i 5] \. But 

the year had not reached its los infial rumors 

began to prevail that this was - end 

of thirteen months after his - - I his 

charge, to accept the Eliot Pre pssors % 1 itera- 

ture in the University I he had 

been appointed b\ the Study 

and travel fox five years iration 
for its duties 

lie left the clerical professioi tlpit, 
when he thus left Brattle s Chun On his eturn 
fioiu 1. ee years subse- 
quently, he . ■ 5 S :ccn. 



perhaps twenty tim< - in all. I n: 

allusion to sonic of th< 

1 

j>nl[»it. Bratt 

irn. I 

tlii"HL" •': th 

■■ in th 
rd him for I I old 

• 

and ' 
in Decei 
Christ 5un- 

- 
tip Old South ( 
■ 

of li 

■ 

... 

- ' p 

Kirk. 

[ 1 ' ■ Butt 

III I 



24 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

Church in the city of New York, of which the late Rev. 
William Ware subsequently became pastor. This sermon 
was published, and is, I believe, the only sermon he ever 
published. It is the only one I have ever seen. In style 
it is simple and grave, less rhetorical than his orations. 
It is liberal, but conservative, in its theology, broad and 
catholic in its charity, fervent in tone and spirit, evidently 
the product of a devout heart. This dedication at New 
York was the last or among the last occasions on which 
he preached. I feel quite confident that he did not preach 
after 1821, because the next year, as some who hear me 
will remember, in addition to the lectures connected with 
his professorship, and other duties at Cambridge, he was 
occupied with a course of lectures, whose preparation, 
judging from their learning and brilliancy, must have cost 
him no little time and study, on Art and Architecture, — 
more especially, if my memory serves me, on Greek and 
Egyptian Architecture, — which he delivered at what was 
then called the Pantheon Hall, on Washington Street, a 
little south of the Boylston Market. Lectures of this 
kind were then unusual in Boston, and these, having in 
addition to their novelty the strong attraction of the name 
and fame of the lecturer, were attended by an audience 
as cultivated and appreciative as ever assembled for a 
similar purpose. 

From this review it appears that his whole connection 
with the pulpit, including his preparatory studies and 
pastorate j before he went to Europe, and the period 
during which he preached occasionally after his return, 
Avas only about rive years. His exclusive connection 






UEMOK1 W. OS ll'W AK1> l.\ I 

with it as pastor was onlj one yi ir and a month lacl< 
four days, from the 9th of February, 1814, to the -"> 1 1 1 
of March, 1815. [n this brief period he mad* 
impression, as a p r, which abides distinct and 

clear to thi- hour in many hearts. Uc left the pulpit 
with the reputation of being the most eminent and 
eloquent man in it ; and be left in and with the pro- 

■ ■li one book — his "1) fence of Christianity" — 
which at the time it was published was justly regarded 
as one of the mosl learned and important theological 
works that had then been written in America, and which, 
considering it- contents, the circumstances under which 
it was prepared, and the extreme youth of the author. 
still bi of the most extraordinary 

1 k> produced at any time in any profession. It is 

one of those 1 ks, of which the paradox maj be utt 

that ■ d it- failure. It >o ; 

mplished its work that it almost dropt out of exist- 
i of the present generation ever heard of it, 
fewer -till know- anything about it. Copies of it 
now md '>nl\ hen- and there, on the shelvi 

Pnblic Libraries, or among the books d clergymen, 

[t was prepared, ai jentlemen here will remen 

in reply to a work l>y Mr. George Bethune Euglish, 
who graduated at Cambridge in I s "';. the y< u Mr. 
I I. This gentleman, not without tali 

but • in hi- career, which i. d in 

~. remained at Camb 

luating, : theology . and I b< li< \ 

B( in tl) bj the Btudj 



26 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

of the deistical works of Anthony Collins, to adopt 
opinions unfavorable to Christianity as a divine revela- 
tion, he published a book entitled, " The Grounds of 
Christianity Examined by Comparing the New Testament 
with the Old." This work, plausible in spirit, having 
the appearance of great candor in statement and fairness 
in argument, attracted attention and was much read. 
It unsettled the faith of many, and, if left unanswered, 
seemed destined to do this for many more. 

Mr. Everett did, what several older men, I have 
heard, attempted without success ; he made a triumphant 
answer to Mr. English's book, in a volume of nearly 
five hundred pages, which to this day must be regarded 
as replete with the learning bearing upon its partic- 
ular point. Cogent in argument, clear and close in its 
reasoning, eloquent often in the fervor and glow of a 
devout faith, keen yet kind in its wit and satire, conclu- 
sive in its exposition of the ignorance of his opponent, 
his plagiarism, and his dishonesty in the use of his 
materials, this book so completely extinguished Mr. 
English and his disciples, that it soon ceased to be 
read itself. It died out, as I have said, and is now 
known only to few of the older members of the commu- 
nity and the profession. It is a book of such a charac- 
ter, that any man at any period of his life might be 
pardoned the manifestation of some little self-complacency 
at finding himself the author of it. Many have passed 
a long life in the profession, and held a high and honor- 
able position in it, without giving any evidence of the 



MEMORIAL OF EDWARD I. VI KKI I . 

so much irning that 

is contained in this work. 

||i> •■ ] nt' Christianity," written partly befo 
bis ordination and published sis months afterwards, in 
ist, 1814, was Mr. Everett's legacj to the clerical 
profession, beq d to it before he was invested 

with a legal manhood. 1 am aware that their opinions on 
the Prophets and the <>!<! Testament illy, do not 

permit some eminent theological scholars to pul 
high estimate upon Mr. Everett's " Dcfenci 
Christianity," but, for myself, without disparagement of 
the '"""1 he has done, and the honors he has attained 
in other departments, 1 i innot but think, thai it' there 
my one event, work, or labor of his varied and 
useful life, of which he may, on a just estimate of things, 
be most proud, it i< that in the days of his earlj youth, 
on the very threshold of his career, he prepared and 
published this ! k, which silenced the voice <>f infi- 
delity ;in<l gave pi tisfaction, and ;i firm faith to 
thousands of minds in ;t young and growing community. 
\\ ■ : • surprised that r, which began in 
such industry, in the exhibition of bo much learning and 
h fidelity in improving opportunity, should hav< gone 
(mi • ising in honor and usefulness. I 
do doI e to follow tin i'li minute- 
all through, nor would it be proper in me to d 
• ; but as I have spoken of tl yman, I may be 
pcrroitti • ' ' ' 

! am the only member of tl t, who, as a 

pupil in the ' - the 1 



28 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

had the benefit of his instructions and lectures. Cam- 
bridge and the family of President Kirkland having been 
my home for several years before I entered college in 
18*21, not long after he entered upon his professorship, 
I knew something about tbe college, and had ample 
opportunity of knowing also the fresh impulse which he 
gave to the study of Greek, by the general influence of his 
reputation as a Greek scholar, by his occasional presence 
at our recitations to the tutors in Greek, by his suggestive 
direction or advice to such students as wished to give 
special attention to this department, but chiefly by his 
lectures on the Greek language and literature, which 
were delivered to the senior class, in what was then, there 
being three, the second or Spring Term of the college 
year. The class graduating in 1825, of which I was a 
member, was the last of the six classes who had the 
benefit of these lectures. From my recollection of them, 
from notes taken at the time, and from the printed synop- 
sis which was furnished for our guidance, I have a strong 
impression of the extraordinary character of those lec- 
tures, as profound, comprehensive, discriminating, and 
largely exhaustive of all the learning connected with 
their theme. Had he published them when he resigned, 
he would have left in his Professor's chair a legacy as 
remarkable, in its kind, as his legacy to the pulpit in 
his " Defence of Christianity," and secured to himself 
such a reputation as a Greek scholar, master of all the 
learning appertaining to the history and criticism of 
Greek literature, as many a man would have been willing 
to rest upon for the remainder of his life. 



Bui while pi ibridge, Mi I 

interested not simply in his immediate duties, bul 
whatever touched the welfare and improvement <>f the 
college. In all departments his influence was I 
in one direction be was active in a \\.i\ which had -nun' 
connection, I suppose, with his resignation of his pn 

dp t<> enter upon political life. In IS'2U 
nf the eminent gentlemen a( Cambridge, then resident 
professors, took up the thought, not without some quite 

stantial . that the " Fellows," as th( 5 

termed in the Charter, "Members of the Corporation," 
as we commonly designate them, should be chosen from 
among themselves; that the authoritative bod} controlling 
the college, having primarily the charge of all it- i 

t of all it- affairs, should be compo 

of the working men on th< I understood its 

lition and it- want-, and were most competent to 

illy, rather than of gentlemen engaged 

..1 living in Boston, Salem, or some 

more distant place In 1824, they prepared a memorial 

to th the ( lorporation, who referred 

them to the Board of Overt which body, 

a h< for and grant ubsequently 

held. I Andrews Nbrl »n, 1 lexter Prof ssoi of 

I Mr. 1 I to 

• the m ... ring. Mr. Norton 

able paper, marked b) t 1 . 

which be 

led. Mi I 

irief n 

1 



ISO MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

would use before a jury, addressed the Board in a 
speech occupying more than two hours. He was inter- 
rupted at times by gentlemen of the Board adverse to the 
position of the memorialists, the accuracy, or pertinence, 
or propriety of his statements questioned, and in one 
instance, if not more, the decision of the Chair, (Lieut. 
Gov. Morton presiding,) that he was " not in order," 
required him to change his line of argument and 
remark. Nothing, however, seemed to confuse or discom- 
pose him. The situation was novel and trying, yet he 
sustained himself with an admirable degree of self-posses- 
sion, and conducted his cause with great ability. I have 
always supposed that it was the exhibition of his powers 
on this occasion, the coolness and tact with which he 
conducted himself in an argument, and sometimes almost 
a debate, before a body of eminent men, some of whom 
were opposed to his position, that first suggested his 
nomination to represent Middlesex in Congress, and that 
his splendid and eloquent oration before the Phi Beta 
Kappa Society, in August, 1824, only helped to confirm 
the purpose of his nomination, and secure his election. 
Thus much at least is clear, any distrust that may have 
been felt in any quarter as to his fitness or competency 
for congressional service, in view of his scholastic train- 
ing and habits, found a conclusive answer in the manner 
in which he bore himself in this hearing before the Board 
of Overseers. 

But whatever suggested the nomination, it was made, 
and he was elected in the autumn of 1824, and, delivering 
his lectures for the last time in the spring of 1825, he 



mi:M'»:;i m. of i.i>". :;l 

*ned and took his Beat in < 
that year. I It and 

at that time, that so much learning, such \ 
persu 1 tquence, and rare combination of qua] I 

• • to the dii of lit' ;ion, 
must be largely diminished, if not entii nguishcd by 
his eminent and brilliant y his wide use- 
fulness in varied departi if public and political life, 
by the singular ind purity of his wholi 

and li_\ lii- i fidelity and devotedness to the inti 

of truth, virtue, and religion. For he - me to i 

thus faithful and devoti d. I feel d spo ed to main- 
tain that Mr. I i- true always to the spirit of his 
early vows, and though he did not continue in the admiu- 

an institution . he 

nued to cultn spirit and power in his hi 

and • trolling inspiration and ;• of 

his lif [( - y, nor would it be proper for 

into an analysis of hi- speeches, \ 
rious junctures in <>nr public affairs dui 

• fort) years, but i - me, that what 

part) predilections maj dispu 
lii> juililii i 

of the \\ hole of it. \n ill 
ii ur in • 
I ind imp 1 from the beginn 

a simple, h I 

admin 

Mr. llillnd 

■ifirin this ; 



32 MASSACHUSETTS HISTOKICAL SOCIETY. 

of his course. From his entrance upon public life in 
1825, to the spring of 1861, all through those more than 
thirty years, in which the struggle between the antago- 
nistic elements of liberty and slavery in our government 
and institutions came up in various forms, he, in common 
with many of our greatest statesmen and large masses of 
our people, felt that a certain line of policy was the 
wisest and the best, most adapted to keep the peace, to 
preserve the Union from dissolution, and the Government 
and the country from ruin. Therefore, adhering to this 
policy, adopted on conviction, he was for patience, for- 
bearance, compromise, concession, for yielding anything 
and everything that could, not simply in justice, but in 
generosity and honor, be yielded to satisfy those who 
were perpetually holding over us the menace of dissolu- 
tion. Honestly, and in the spirit of a broad patriotism, to 
disarm tins menace of all occasion and all justification, 
was the purpose of his action and policy while in public 
office, and of his efforts as a private citizen, and especially 
of that grand national pilgrimage which he made with the 
life and character of Washington as the theme of a magni- 
ficent discourse, which he delivered so many times to such 
vast assemblies in all the principal cities of the land, in the 
hope that under the shadow of that august name, and by 
the glory of a memory so sacred to all of us, he might 
allay sectional prejudice and the strife of parties, and 
bind all together in a common love and devotion to the 
Union. But Avhen this hope failed, and he found that 
treason had developed its plans, that rebellion, unfurling its 
standard, bad inaugurated civil war, then the policy that 



mi Mourn, "i i:i'\\ m:i> i * 

bad hitherto guided his life was instantlj abnndoi 
He felt that there was no longer any room foi 
01 i ompromise, and himself, time, tal< al 

dom, strength, all that he had, in all the ways thai 

could, tn support the legitimate ernmcnt <>f the 

Unit< Si -.in nil the action and policj by which that 
Government sought to maintain at all hazards und ;tt 
any co>t the integrity of the Union and country which 
that Government was instituted to preserve. But in all 
this he was under the inspiration of a patriotism that 
always dwelt in his heart, though in these latter y 

have been raised to an energy, enthusiasm, 
and that indicate a deeper and 

stroi aviction that be was right than he exhib 

or perhaps i ver i sperieni ■ 

This is the true interpretation, I conceive, to be put 
upon Mr. Everett's politv a public man. 

In our estimate of bim intellectually, it will not be 
maintained, I presume, that Mr. I tl 
those grand, original, i r< alive, ini prodm 

minds, that Btrike out new paths in philosophy, 

or the policies ol v ' I Such minds come upon the 

world onlj in thi turies. But lie had a 

mind of vast pow I i omprehending prin- 

cipli ' ils, and makii ol both. 

1 1. 1, id is, unwearied indu I 

qucntly accumulated vast si f knowledge in all the 

He 

had a wonderful memory-, 

• rulture and II 



34 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

bination of intellectual, moral, and physical faculties, and 
above all, he had the power of using all his faculties 
and all his acquisitions with grace, beauty, and dignity, 
so that he touched nothing that he did not illustrate 
and adorn, and came before us ever, on all occasions, 
with a freshness and force that charmed and instructed. 
As is well known to his intimate friends, he was singu- 
larly kind, tender, faithful and true in every domestic 
relation of life, and to all the claims of kindred and 
friendship, with a warm heart under a reserved manner, 
and a sympathizing spirit under lips often reticent ; and 
if, remembering this, we do justice to his private, per- 
sonal character, and then look at his public career, at 
the wide circle of varied offices which he successively 
held, at the labor performed, the ability displayed in 
each ; if we add to these his works as a scholar and a 
literary man, — his magnificent orations, all of them such 
masterpieces of eloquence, pure and elevating in their 
impression ; broad, noble, generous in their thoughts ; 
breathing ever the spirit of piety and patriotism, fitted 
to instruct our people and unfold our history, while they 
adorn our literature, — his numerous contributions to the 
periodical press, especially those to the North American 
Review, often profound discussions of grave questions in 
literature and philosophy ; if we then crown all with the 
noble and patriotic labors of the last four years, we find 
enough surely in this survey to win for him alike our 
admiration and our gratitude ; enough, and more than 
enough, to dispose us to bow before his memory in rever- 
ence, and accord to him the name and the fame of being a 



MEMOKI \1. 01 EDfl MID 

• man. Where sliall n 
Bpheres has done so much and • ell ! 

life and character, and h wed 

from the beginning to the end, was marvellou 

early | >r« ■< ■ •< i t \ . iwing wisdom, ing 

dth, and its grand conclusion. He w I klin 

1 scholar in the old Ninth Gramma v the 

if ten, a Franklin Medal scholar at the I'ublii I 

School at thirteen, chief in his i Cambridge at 

:i. a tutor in the Universit; 
ordained minister of thi I - e he n 

appoint) d tn a pi ship of I literatui 

and thei rs' sen ice in the halls of na- 

tional legislation, h( tiled to tin- Chief Magisl 

of tli v , all of w ffairs he directed with wisdom, 

dignity, and usefulness, — and th< his 

id in <> most important and honoi 

d thence, on hi- n turn to his 
native land, to ;• the int< 

I sit) . — and tin ■• 

I et for the 1) 

— ami t' in that augusl body, tl 

- and til 
higher and I 
held b 'i the 

ii in all ti: 



36 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

distinction with unaffected modesty, walking among us 
with none of the infirmities but all the glory of age upon 
his person, and the wisdom of age in his speech, — then 
the beautiful and fitting end came, and without a linger- 
ing sickness, without a shadow upon his noble faculties, 
suddenly he died. Alone in his solitary preeminence, 
alone, as it were, he died ; and that cold Sunday morning 
air, that brought a chill to our bodies, as it swept through 
our streets and by our doors with its sad announcement, 
" Edward Everett is dead ! " brought a chill to our hearts 
which the warmth of many summers will not dispel, and 
left an image and a memory there that will abide with all 
of us, beautiful and bright, so long as we live. Mr. 
President, I second the resolutions. 

The Hon. John C. Gray then spoke as follows : — 

Mr. President : Apart from the intimation with 
which I have been honored through you and other 
respected friends, T might have been prompted by my 
own feelings to offer a few remarks on this most solemn 
and interesting occasion. One of the few remaining 
companions of my youth has departed. An uninterrupted 
friendship of nearly sixty years has been dissolved. 
But I am not here to speak of my own loss or my own 
feelings, but to contribute in doing justice to the memory 
of the deceased. The theme is a most copious one. 
It is not my purpose to analyze the character of our 
friend, still less to indulge in vague and extravagant 
eulogy. I prefer to speak briefly of those points iu his 
character which bave stamped themselves most deeply 



MEMORIAL >>K EDWAM) I \ 

mi in\ own memory. We were of thi - in 

college, and for tw> 5 illege lii pi< d 

the same apartment. I have ever looked back on that 

iation as one of the most valuable, as well 
of the 1 itifying, of mj earlj days. lit- ripci 

ut" judgment was not less remarkable than the p 
« > t' lii— genius. Hut there is yet higher prais 

I 1 m Bay, and you perceive that I had some means 
of knowing, that I never knew one who ; '1 ;i 

more unruffled temper. Not a single inst d I 

illect <>t" irritability. Such ;t temper must of nei 

own reward, and I think we ma) fairly 
tn it much of his subsequent greatness I 
Bir, among the many weighty truths which fell from 
lips, 1 triking than a remark 

in lii< ! to the working-men, while recommending 

the improvement of their leisure b ' icnerally 

king," ! >, ■• our business allows us time 

ugh, it" our passions would but us." V per 

faithfully practised as he preached. In the 
of hi- life he had his share of those chastening 
3 which in various shapes and ■ 

,,-i\ one. B ' of them caused the slig 

m in bis unwearied industr) I um- 

mons which aw '""1 him ut lii- work, 

• would li - when it mighl I bIiuII 

little more of lii- S I 

■ then ■ 
Everett 
and 



38 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

I pass over his short but brilliant ministry in the 
pulpit and his years of assiduous study in foreign 
countries. Shortly after his return he assumed the post 
of editor of our leading review. It was at a most inter- 
esting period. This country and Great Britain had 
closed their contests by an honorable peace, and there 
was on our side a general disposition to cultivate a 
friendly and respectful feeling towards our late adver- 
saries. This certainly was not fully reciprocated. The 
leading British reviews seemed to agree in nothing so 
much as in speaking of our country and its institutions 
with hatred or contempt. Mr. Everett felt it his duty 
to stand forth in defence of our good name. It is not 
a little to his praise that while he did this most ably 
and earnestly, he always preserved the dignity befitting 
his cause and himself, and never descended to meet his 
antagonists with their own weapons. There is good 
reason to believe that his candid and manly appeals to 
the good sense of the people of England were not in 
vain, and that they contributed to create among educated 
Englishmen a feeling better becoming them and more 
just to us, a feeling which for a long time seemed prev- 
alent, and which we had hoped would have been general 
and permanent. Mr. Everett's able and eloquent defences 
of the good name of his country naturally led to invi- 
tations to serve her in public trusts. 

I will not pretend to say that such invitations were 
unacceptable. Suffice it to remark that, if he desired 
public life, he never accepted an office which was not 
properly offered, never purchased one by pledges in 



HEMOR] U. OF i.H\V \Kli l.\ : 

advance, direct or ind md n< ■ 

bis position for the emolumeul of himself or his 
friends. What 1 have more to saj will be 
his personal character \ - prh ul 

dered in New I aigland, and I trusl 
in V I gland alone, as one of the elements of true 
great II »id that it should ever beheld 

in light estimation! This merit was bis beyond impeach- 
ment, — not his alone, most certainly, but bis eminence 
in other r< sp< aple in tin- more 

conspicuous, and thus more widely beneficial. Of this 
character I shall n me leading feature, — I mi 

his wakeful and unremitted di m to benefit oth< 

If judged by his fru I How that Edw 

I dent man. His exi rtions and 

ind, body, or most frcclj 

ill, — I should say on 
opportunity. Whether the applicant 
a friend or uous or 

unconspicuous, it ■ lugh for him that he could 

or small. And now, Bir, I 

will close by a few inquiries. \ le will suspect me 

• if ,! . rig any of our emim nt nun. di or 

surviving, when I ask — 

Has tnj o more di I lied 

II there b 

Mid tin, lie who could saj with n 

truth in words he • 
» not I. 



40 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

one done more, by his wise and eloquent productions, to 
elevate, instruct, and refine the minds of his countrymen 1 
Finally, has any one been more distinguished by exem- 
plary fidelity in public office and by constant kindness 
and benevolence in private life \ Few higher eulogies 
can be uttered than the reply which must rise to the 
lips of every one. 

George Ticknor, Esq. then addressed the meeting as follows : — 

Mr. President : I ask your permission to say a few 
words concerning the eminent associate and cherished 
friend whom we have lost, — so sadly, so suddenly lost. 
It is but little that I can say becoming the occasion, so 
well was he known of all ; for, in his early youth, he rose 
to a height, which has led us to watch and honor and 
understand, from the first, his long and brilliant career. 

On looking back over the two centuries and a half of 
this our New England history, I recollect not more than 
three or four persons who, during as many years of a life • 
protracted as his was beyond threescore and ten, have so 
much occupied the attention of the country, — I do not 
remember a single one, who has presented himself under 
such various, distinct, and remarkable aspects to classes 
of our community so separate, thus commanding a de- 
gree of interest from each, whether scholars, theolo- 
gians, or statesmen, which in the aggregate of its popular 
influence has become so extraordinary. For he has been, 
to a marvellous degree successful, in whatever he has 
touched. His whole way of life for above fifty years 
can now be traced back by the monuments which he 



MEMORIAL "1 1 DW 1 1 

with his own hand as li> 
ini;. at the tim< 
man. 1 i « b< i Id enough to i 

.it" tin s< ful mouumi 

nt" ii- I apprehend is so young, that he will survive the 

their long line. And, now that we I 
comi end, and that it - it" the whole air 

tilli (1 with our sorrowful and proud rccollectioiu 
it is with the liu'lit at noonday, we feel with renewed 
known him as we have know u very 
few men of our time. \n<l this i- true. How, then, 
can I - '• anything that shall be worthy of m 
still Ii thing that is tit for record '. 

\\ hen h( and I ■■ 

about tb tlder, his family to live within o 

:' my father's house and subsequent!) removed 

tim< . Mr. Pi 
win n the ( itj I ipposc, was not one fifth as 

id implied kindly at quaint- 
I booh knew his elder br< W< sand* r, then 

the I Cambridge, while I w 

.11 a < i tmouth Coll 

I 
able -i holar; — an admiration, let me add. which In 

i dimini I hi ! whom 

len in that humb 
h he I 
allu 

I 
■ 



42 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

the extraordinary talents and progress of this younger 
Everett ; praise which my admiration of his brother pre- 
vented me, I fear, from receiving, for a time, with so 
glad a welcome as I ought to have done. During the 
two or three subsequent years, while the younger brother 
was at Exeter or beginning his career at Cambridge, I 
knew little of him, though I was much with the elder 
and belonged to at least one pleasant club of which he 
was a member. 

The first occasion on which the younger scholar's de- 
lightful character broke upon me, with its true attributes, 
is still fresh in my recollection. It was in the summer of 
1809. Mr. Alexander Everett was then about to embark 
for St. Petersburg, as the private secretary of Mr. John 
Quincy Adams, and a few nights before he left us, he 
gave a supper — saddened, indeed, by the parting that was 
so soon to follow, but still a most agreeable supper — to 
eight or ten of his personal friends, one of whom (Dr. 
Bigelow) I now see before me; — the last, except myself, 
remaining of that well remembered symposium. The 
younger brother was there, so full of gayety — unassum- 
ing but irrepressible — so full of whatever is attractive in 
maimer or in conversation, that I was perfectly carried 
captive by his light and graceful humor. And this, let 
me here say, has always been a true element of his char- 
acter. He was never at any period of his life a saturnine 
man. In his youth he overflowed with animal spirits ; 
and, although from the time of his entrance into political 
life, with the grave cares and duties that were imposed 
upon him, the lightheadedness of his nature was some- 



MEMOHIAL "I 1 1>U AKli EV] 

what oppressed i ired, it was always there. I 

never a time 1 think — c> in tho 

trial ami Borrow th I dl — in which, aim 

private friends with whom he was most intimate, lie 
not cheerful, i rmingl) amusing. [I was so 

daj b< fore his death. He n Bering from an 

oppression on the lungs; and. a- I sat with him, be 
could speak only in whispers; but, even then, his natural 
playfulness I wanting. 

But from the time "(' that delightful supper in 1809, 
m\ regard never failed to be fastened on him. At first, 
during his under-graduate's lifi , at < , I saw him 

Beldom. But in that simpler ' our society, when 

the interests of men ■ nt from what they 

hav< all who concerned themselves about 

familiar with wh doing in 

Cambridgi , I • ett, youthful as he was, was eminently 
the first scholar there, and we all knew it. We all — or, 
at least, all of u- who were young — read tin " II 
Lyceum," which he edited, and which. 1 maj almosl 
be filled with hi- scholarship and humor. 

In 1M1 he was graduated with the highest hon< 
and pronounced, with extraordinary grace ol mannci 
-Imit oration, on — it' I rightly remember — I Difli- 
! which delighti 

than « 1 b) the 

on wh • ■ ■ I 

rt." ' known life 

uid u.i- onlj more w id< I; 
than ■ be 



44: MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

was himself already so full of recognized promise and 
power. His time, in fact, was not yet come. But the next 
year it came. He was invited to deliver the customary 
poem at Commencement, hefore the " Phi Beta Kappa 
Society." It was not, perhaps, a period, when much 
success could have heen anticipated for anybody, on a 
merely literary occasion. The war with England had 
been declared only a few weeks earlier and men felt 
gloomy and disheartened at the prospect before them. 
Still more recently Buckminster had died, only twenty- 
eight years old. but loved and admired, as few men ever 
have been in this community; — mourned, too, as a loss 
to the beginnings of true scholarship among us, which 
many a scholar then thought might hardly be repaired. 
But, as in all cases of a general stir in the popular feel- 
ing, there was an excitement abroad which permitted the 
minds of men to be turned and wielded in directions 
widely different from that of the prevailing current. The 
difficulty was to satisfy the demands in such a disturbed 
condition of things. 

Mr. Everett was then just in that "opening manhood" 
which Homer, with his unerring truth, has called " the 
fairest term of life." And how handsome he was, Mr. 
President ! We all know how remarkable was Milton's 
early beauty. An engraving of him — a fine one — by 
Virtue, from a portrait preserved in the Onslow family, 
and painted when the poet was about twenty, is well 
known. But, sir, so striking was the resemblance of this 
engraving to our young friend, that I remember often 
seeing a copy of it inscribed with his name in capital let- 



MOW vl. OF ll>\\ \l;i> i.\ 

d am an 
]; liant, then, with such personal 

re ;ai audience alread] disposed to receive liim with 
ordinary kindn 
Ili-, subject was, "American P inly nol 

promising on< I I 

didactic; but there was such a mixtun 
good-natured satire in it, so much more praise willingl) 
irded than was reallj deserved, such humorous and 
happ) allusions t.> what was local, personal, and familiar 
II, and such solemn and tender pas tout the 

condition of nd its anxi< -• — 

that it ed with an applause which, in si 

I . !■ known equalled. < 

grander I bav< often known to be achieved, on 

,1\ bj others but by himself, 
r did I witness such clear, unmingled delight I 
thing n . but the speaker and what he chose 

Th iuld b( ined when 

Mr. I •• was onlj a little more than eighteen yi 
old. But, sir, in fact, it had been gained earlier. The 
in had b id when he was onlj i 

club oi ends in th< ' his 

i had i. 
: ■ tination. Its publii ition « • imi 

Hut ..n the whol 

the wi Id I 
howi 

uln. ll I 



46 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

six more in common octavo, which were at once dis- 
tributed to other eager friends. But this was by no means 
enough. A little later, therefore, there were printed, 
with slight alterations, sixty copies more, of which he 
gave me two, in an extra form, marked with his fair 
autograph. I know not where three others are now to 
be found ; though I trust, from the great contemporary 
interest in the poem. itself, and from its real value, that 
many copies of it have been saved. 

It is written in the versification consecrated by the 
success of Dryden and Pope ; and if it contains lines 
marked by the characteristics of the early age at which it 
was produced, there is yet a power in it, a richness of 
thought, and a graceful finish, of which probably few men 
at thirty would have been found capable. At any rate, in 
the hundred and more years during which verse had then 
been printed iu these Colonies and States, not two hundred 
pages, I think, can now be found, which can be read 
with equal interest and pleasure. 

It was only a few weeks aftei wards, as nearly as I 
recollect, that he began to preach. I heard his first two 
sermons, delivered to a small congregation in a neighbor- 
ing town, and I heard him often afterwards. The effect 
was always the same. There was not only the attractive 
manner, which we had already witnessed and admired, 
but there was, besides, a devout tenderness, which had 
hardly been foreseen. The main result, however, had 
been anticipated. He was, in a few months, settled over 
the church in Brattle Street, with the assent and admira- 
tion of all. 



MEMORIAL OF 1 l»w vi;i> l.vi ui l 1. IT 

But, in the iiiul-t of his success in the pulpit, he 
turned aside I • ■ m. I 

in the autumn of 1813, M i !'• I nglish published 

a small book, entitled, "The Grounds of Christianity 
I mined by Comparing the New Testament \\ it 1 1 the 
Old." It was, in fact, an att ick <m the truth of the Chris- 
tian religion, in the f Judaism. Its author, whom 

I knen personally, was a young man "t" verj pleasant 
int. : great lover of books, of which he h id 

I many, but with little order or well-defined purp 
He would, I think, hai t man of letters, it' such a 

nuth bad bei n t>> him. A profession, however, was 

Iful. II. studied law, but became dissatisfied with it. 

II studied divinity, but was ii'\ in \n- 

His mind was never well balanced, or well settled upon 
anything. II ilways an adventurer — jusl as much 

so in the scholarlike period of his life, as he was after- 
red under Ismail Pasha, in Egypt, and 
icient war-t h triots armed with 

lli~ ill-constructed lunik received several answers, du 
and indirect, from the pulpit and the press; but none ol 
then their authors had 

not I ted tli. by-paths of learning in which 

Mr. English had for some time been wandering with 

\| Everett irever, folio 

him everywhere with ful scholarship 

unknown to In- presumptuou II 

■ 1 1 | publisl - ; md 1 

still ; it of hall 



48 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

printed for the author's friends, on extra paper, and are 
become curious as showing how ill understood, in those 
simpler days, were the dainty luxuries of bibliography. 
But the proper end of the book was quickly attained. 
Mr. English's imperfect and unsound learning was demol- 
ished at a blow ; and, as has just been so happily said by 
Dr. Lothrop, the whole controversy, even Mr. Everett's 
part of it, is forgotten, because it has been impossible 
to keep up any considerable interest in a question which 
he had so absolutely settled. Mr. Everett's " Defence," 
however, will always remain a remarkable book. Some 
years after its publication, Professor Monk, of Cambridge, 
the biographer of Bentley, and himself afterwards Bishop 
of Gloucester, told me that he did not think any Episcopal 
library in England could be accounted complete which 
did not possess a copy of it. 

In the winter following the publication of this book — 
that is, in the winter of 1814-15 — he was elected Pro- 
fessor of Greek Literature. I was then at the South, 
having made up my mind to pass some time at the Uni- 
versity of Gbttingen, and was endeavoring, chiefly among 
the Germans in the interior of Pennsylvania, to obtain 
information concerning the modes of teaching in Ger- 
many, about which there then prevailed in New England 
an absolute ignorance now hardlv to be conceived. "With 
equal surprise and delight, I received letters from my 
friend telling me of his appointment, and that, to qualify 
himself for the place offered him, he should endeavor to 
go with me upon what we both regarded as a sort of 
adventure, to Germany. Perhaps I should add that this 



sudden change in ti 

ment at the time, and th 

parish whose brilliant anticipations he tlm- tli 

.. not ai in a kiudl) spirit. Bui loin 

and rightfulness th< >ubt in the mind of 

i bodj . 

\\ kill in April. 1M">. and passed n few wei 

in London, during the exciting period of Bonaparte's last 
paign, and j u-t at the time of the battle of Waterloo, 
we were in a hurry to b< k. We 1 

therefore, through Holland, stopping chiefly to bu\ 
and earl) in August wen alreadj in the chosen plac< 
our destination. [I air purpose to remain tin 

But the facilities for studj « i we had 

I or di Mj o« n r< w ts in 

and nine months, and 
Ml \ months longer — 

both of ring the tempting school at last sorn 

una ' 

How well he employed his time then ults 

shown in his who lent life have i the 

world to judge. 1 w itn< ssed the j 
\\ ■ ■ tantly together. Kxcepl foi tin 

months, « hi n we < ould uol make i 

•. we lived in contiguous rooms in tl 
\<k. the 1; 
t in the unh 
. u hen he went t" tin I i 
■ 
in I lolland — we I ' 



50 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

every day in term time we went more or less to the same 
private teachers, and the same lecturers. But he struck 
in his studies much more widely than I did. To say 
nothing of his constant, indefatigable labor upon the 
Greek with Dissen, he occupied himself a good deal with 
Arabic under Eichhorn, he attended lectures upon modern 
history by Heeren, and upon the civil law by Hugo, and 
he followed besides the courses of other professors, whose 
teachings I did not frequent and whose names I no longer 
remember. 

His power of labor was prodigious ; unequalled in my 
experience. One instance of it — the more striking, per- 
haps, because disconnected from his regular studies — is, 
I think, worth especial notice. We had been in Gottin- 
gen, I believe, above a year, and he was desirous to send 
home something of what he had learnt about the modes 
of teaching, not only there but in our visits to the univer- 
sities of Leipzig, Halle, Jena, and Berlin, and to the great 
preparatory schools of Meissen, and Pfrote. He had, as 
nearly as I can recollect, just begun this task. But how 
so voluminous a matter was to be sent home was an 
important question. Regular packets there were none, 
even between New York and Liverpool. We depended, 
therefore, very much on accident — altogether on tran- 
sient vessels. Opportunities from Hamburg were rare 
and greatly valued. Just at this time our kind mer- 
cantile correspondents at that port gave us sudden notice 
that a vessel for Boston would sail immediately. There 
was not a moment to be lost ; Mr. Everett threw every- 
thing else aside, and worked for thirty-five consecutive 



Ml MORIAL "1 1 DW vi:i> l\ I 51 

hours "ii his letter, 

though '1 by his 

uninjured, and in a day or two was fullj refreshed 
red [need uol say that a man who * 1 i « 1 this h 
earnest in what he u I, \l 

\ that, by the constant, dailj 
Bitions ami powers like these, he laid during those two or 
three \. its in Gottingcn, the real foundations on which 
his greal n so many widely different 

I f< . | 1 dd of any 

within my know 
\\ b< ii I 1' ft < iott ag( n, he and a young \' 

hen II. Perkins — then under his charge, and 
who still survives — accompanied me on my first day's 
\t 1 1. - i el we £ d, thinkin; 

gain in the south of Europe, and visit together 
1 nd Asi Minor, which, from the time of the 

app« of"Childe Harold." tour or five \ rlier, 

had been much in our young thoughts and imaginati 

"Forth rushed the Levant and the- Poncnt winds." 
w montl t P the app 

■ I rich and Spanish I 
1 i. from that moment, it w that 

ni\ destinal M i ' « that be wa 

V I nople. W ■ 

: until bis return home, in the autumn ol 
1819, wh< 
I 'in this timi Mr. Everett's lil 

i puhli< id all h him 

nd tull\ II ' ' 



MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

tare at Cambridge the next summer, and I went from 
Boston regularly to hear them, for the pleasure and 
instruction they gave me. The notes I then took of them, 
and which I still preserve, will bear witness to the merit 
just ascribed to them by the fiiend on my left, who heard 
the same course somewhat later. 

But Mr. Everett was, in another sense, already a public 
man. From the natural concern he felt in the fate of a 
country he had so recently visited, he took a great interest, 
as early as 18*21-23, in the Greek Revolution, and wrote 
and spoke on it, both as a philanthropic and as a political 
question. In 1821 he was elected to Congress. There 
and elsewhere, like other public men of eminence, he has 
had his political trials and his political opponents ; some- 
times generous, sometimes unworthy, but never touch- 
ing the unspotted purity of his character and purposes. 
All such discussions, however, find no becoming place 
within these doors. We recognize here no such divisions 
of opinion respecting our lamented associate. We remem- 
ber his great talents, and the gentleness that added to 
their power ; his extraordinary scholarship, and the rich 
fruits it bore ; his manifold public services, and the just 
honors that have followed them. All this we remember. 
In all of it we rejoice. We recollect, too, that for five-and- 
forty years, he has been our pride and ornament, as a 
member of this Society. But we recognize no external 
disturbing element in these our happy recollections. To 
us, he has always been the same. At any meeting that 
we have held since he became fully known to us and to 
the country, the beautiful, appropriate, and truthful reso- 



Ml.M.'KlW. "I l.IiV 

qs now on your tabic, might — if he had ju 
d from us as he has 1 by 

us with as much earm ind unanim the> will 

irrow to-night The) do but lith com] 
bat has alw And let us 

thankful adopt thi-^ record and make it our i 

that — grand and gratifying as it i: neither the m \t 

ration nor any that may follow will desire to h.. 
word of it obliterated or alter 

Hon. John II. Clifford then proceeded i- follows: — 

II ring bi en unable to participate in 
the I : ted 

leclinc the distinguished 

which I ivited, of pronouncing a more 

. his life and char the 

t\\.. 1 1 ises : ' Leg . I iuld nut forego the 

irtunity of uniting in thi immemoration, with 

an \ OUS an i n t< 

and of which he " I i member. 

II mj 

• tin- loss we h not doubl that 

. heartfelt tribute of ; 

when 1m- n 

in a cin le 1. would I to Aim 

than though the) were pol- 

ln illi.mt as hi- on n. 
It is I of him — mj h 

ad tru — m) • 

id. Il 



54 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

now just thirty years ago, my first commission in the 
service of the State ; and from that period up to the 
close of the last month of the last year, he honored 
me with a correspondence which I have carefully pre- 
served as a precious possession for myself and for my 
children. You will pardon me, Mr. President, if, in 
this brief review of what I owe to the influence of his 
friendship and his counsels, I shall invoke his presence, 
still to speak to us, by a free and unreserved reference 
to this correspondence. 

Admitted to the intimate intercourse of a member of his 
military family, during the entire term of his service as 
Governor of the Commonwealth, he never afterwards 
ceased to manifest the interest in me which that inter- 
course implied, and the value of which no poor words 
of mine, of public or of private acknowledgment can 
ever measure or repay. Of that military family, Mr. 
President, — and " we were seven," — who bore his com- 
mission during those four years of brilliant service to his 
native Commonwealth, you and I are the only survivors, 
to render these last honors to our illustrious chief. 

In the review of his remarkable career, to which, 
since its triumphant close on earth, the minds of so 
many have been turned who never knew him otherwise 
than in his public character, I am persuaded that some 
impressions respecting him, which those who were 
brought nearest to him know to be utterly unfounded, 
are certain to be corrected when the materials of a just 
judgment of all that he was, and all that he did, are 
open to the examination of his countrymen. 



Mi'.Mnki \i. OF i i'\v iru 

It has 1 1 1 1 1 1 that he was "t" a cold and 

unsympathizing nature. There never was a mo 
taken judgment of any public man than thi>. It 
- .1 any trait more distinctly marked than 
another, it was his unfaltering fidelity to his friends, 
and his warm and generous interest in everything that 
lied their happiness and welfare, a- well in the 
trials and the sorrows, as in the su< • ml the sun- 

shine of 1 

While he w is repn s< nting the countrj with such 
signal ability at the I of St. J ind in the 

midst of th< and perplexing questions which he 

there d and disposed «it' with such masterlj 

>ki 11 . I had ommunii him the death 

,,!' a much loved child, in whom he had taken g 

and who bore hi- name. In a letter written 
; .[>t of the intellig ind under circum- 

stances that might well havi sed him from an 

immi reply, — and which would have excused him. 

if that reply hid been prompted by anything less than 
ind u: sympathy, which does not 

id formal nature. — hi I 

t Sir E Peel's, with a ver ible 

line! ministers, and 
m\ diplomatic brethren, when 1 

which I over m\ \i-it that 

inclination as ability t-> throw off. . , 
. . . |, k of our beloved • 

n from us. I . in truth, not lost, b I 

I !. in the d IWtl "I hie 



56 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

the work which grows harder, the longer the time thai 

is given us to <li> it." 

Equally erroneous, in my judgment, is the opinion thai 
Mr. Everett, as a public man, was lacking in moral 
courage. There were occasions in his life when it would 
have required less courage, and have cosl a smaller sacri- 
fice i<> escape tliis imputation, and secure to himself tin" 
popular favor, than it did t<> invite it. But his resolute 
adherence to his own conscientious convictions, his large 
and comprehensive patriotism, his unswerving nationality 
and love of the I aion, and the knowledge which a schol 
ar's studies and a statesman's observations had given him 
of the perils by which that Union was environed, closed 
many an avenue of popularity to him, which holder, hut 

not more courageous, public iueu than he could consent 
to walk in. 

It' timidity consists in an absence of all temerity and 

rashness, of entire freedom from thai reckless spirit which 
no often leads •• tools to rush in where angels tear to 

tread," let it he e\er remembered to his honor, that Mr. 
Everett was a timid statesman. But it" the virtue of 
moderation is still to l»e counted among the excellent 
qualities oi a ruler or counsellor, in conducting the com- 
plex and delicate questions of policy which att'ect the 

well being of a oountrj like ours, and which bear upon its 
future fortunes as well as its present favor, let it also he 
remembered that our departed statesman, while he ad- 
hered inflexibly to his convictions of the right, was not 

'• ashamed to let his moderation he known unto all men." 
It. this aspect of lus character, it has seemed to me that 



■ / • / ' • whom h( 
ami his oration U| 
upon li unsurpassed I 

h of him in tli 
upon tli' 

■ 
|- * an uni m upon Mi I 

. that it was in a ci 
. with his scholarl) I nt indusl 

afflu, .,1 liis pportunities, be would 

bind him n the fruit <>(' all his 

tmplishn 1' ■■ '' ■ th) ;i " 1 ' ' 

1 cultun ■ the 

• hia fell 
;in ,l • hi- having lived in if. 

:• true hi- resoun 

this 

Ids of intclli 

ity. from which their i har- 

: : 

■ 

! wo 

■ 
■i be 



58 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

m unity a knowledge of great historical events and their 
application to the duties of living men, — of implanting in 
the breasts of the people a reverence for their God-fearing 
ancestors, and in justifying the ways of Providence to 
them and their posterity, — of displaying before them the 
brightest deeds and the most heroic sacrifices of patriot- 
ism, and thereby inspiring in them the warmest love of 
their country, and instructing them in the duties they 
owed to her, — all these, and more, of the glorious proofs 
that his life was a noble success and in no sense a failure, 
glow in every page of his writings, not one of which in 
dving would he need to blot, from that first lecture 
before the Mechanics' Institute in Charlestown, down to 
that last fervid, Christian appeal in Fane.uil Hall. 

Mr. President, I speak "in the faith of the clearest con- 
viction, that whatever of unjust, or censorious, or honestly 
mistaken judgment, has ever been passed upon our de- 
parted friend, will be surely modified, if not entirely 
reversed, in all candid minds, under the lights with which 
a true and complete history of his life will illuminate it, 
from its earliest promise to its latest most glorious record. 
Already one of his contemporaries, who has made his 
own name " imperishable in immortal song," in words of 
manly confession, as honorable to their author as they are 
just to the memory of him of whom they were spoken, 
has anticipated the verdict of history. 

" If," says Mr. Bryant, " I have uttered anything in 
derogation of Mr. Everett's public character at times when 
it seemed to me that he did not resist with becoming 
spirit the aggressions of wrong, I now, looking back upon 



MEM0H1 VL "1 EDWARD 1 \ 

his nobli ' the last four years, retract it at lii- 

vrnve. — I lav upon liis hearse the declaration of my 
sorrow that I saw n<>t then the depth of his worth, — that 
[did ii"t discern under thi tism that fonuei 

part of bis nature, that generous courage which 
emergency could so nobly awaken." 

• the praises of men were now of little worth, had 
««• nut one source of pride and affection open to us in the 
contemplation <>t" this beneficent life, tin' value of which 
no U'TcU of eulogy, apt as they are to run into i \ 
tion, can exi i strongly. The manifold tcmptati< 

of public lit''-. whether insinuating themselves through 
our domestic politics, '>r the social and political ethics ol 
national capitol, in the arts of diplomacy or through 
rating alluren urts, \n hich in 

their Protean forms issail the homi 

taught virtue "t" our public men, never left a trace <>!' their 
influence upon the purity of his unsullied chai I ■■ 

those who had the < losest view of him, tl 
apparent b Hon of the pn and 

Power in all the i of life. 

Abundant illustrations of this, indeed, may be found in his 
published worlt6. "Win. that I d it. win dly 

that ir privilege and mini M I' ol 

1 from his lip-, can that 

a my ju the mo 

red, in I i h at thi 

which tin ' hief 

\ . who ' lls 



GO MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

After describing the condition of " the Mayflower 
freighted with the destinies of a continent, as she crept 
almost sinking into Provincetown harbor, utterly inca- 
pable of living through another gale, approaching the 
shore precisely where the broad sweep of this remarkable 
headland presents almost the only point at which for 
hundreds of miles she could with any ease have made a 
harbor," he adds : " I feel my spirit raised above the 
sphere of mere natural agencies. I see the mountains of 
New England rising from their rocky thrones. They rush 
forward into the ocean, settling down as they advance ; 
and there they range themselves, a mighty bulwark 
around the heaven-directed vessel. Yes, tbe everlasting 
God himself stretches out the arm of his mercy and his 
power in substantial manifestations, and gathers the meek 
company of his worshippers as in the hollow of his 
hand." 

But a more striking, because a more spontaneous 
expression of the same characteristic spirit, is contained 
in a letter of farewell which I received from him, dated at 
New York on the day before his embarkation for Europe 
with his whole family in the summer of 1840, and of 
course written amidst all the distractions incident to the 
preparations for his voyage. 

The intelligence of the burning of the packet ship 
Poland at sea, and the rescue of her passengers from 
imminent peril by a passing vessel, had then just been 
received in this country. " The fate of the Poland," he 
writes, " makes me feel strongly how near to death we 
are in the midst of life. I embark with all my treasures 



MEM0R1 U OF EDWARD : I 61 

with some misgivings. But having unci 
from proper m I * - 1 1 1 to be in the path ■ 

and I am sure I am in the band of God. I 
l>;ith> to bis pn Vud whether the) lead us singly, 

i>r in familii impanies, — whether bj a bed of lan- 

guishing on land, or the blazing deck of a burning \> • 
or the dark abyss of tl be <>f but little conse- 

quence in tb "I" an undying spirit." 

\\ hen his own hour had come, Mr. President, it ■ 
through ii" such avenue of suspense and sufferings 
these that his Heavenly Father took him to himself. 
in welcoming him, as our faith to the rewards 

»od and faithful servant." He bore him from our 
>j.r] : - iouslv "s nothing to regret from 

him, either in his death <>r in his life. \Vh\ should we 
mourn th, — th< ' such a life 

on earth, t : upon the assured rewards of the 

J. if- Eternal? 

. . . 

\ ■ • hless \ 

till to linger in oui 

mble in tl. n i harmed 

• • barmon) to whi< Ii I 

i mngnil ded and compl 

— a lil ! to hi 

k duri: 



62 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

during those years of a nation's regeneration, was but a 
prolongation of the music of the Union, by which he 
marched, himself, and inspired his countrymen to march, 
to the great conflict with treason and with wrong. 

Here, and wherever throughout tbe world, in all 
coming time, the gospel of constitutional liberty is 
preached among men, shall this, his last, greatest work, 
; ' be told as a memorial of him." One word more, Mr. 
President, and my grateful task is done. 

In the correspondence from which I have so freely 
quoted, I found, a day or two ago, a striking passage, 
wbich seems to me a fitting close for this feeble tribute to 
the memory of a loved and honored friend. In a letter 
written to me from Washington early in 1854, the year 
that he resigned his place in the Senate of the United 
States, he says : "I have never filled an office which I did 
not quit more cheerfully than I entered. I am not sure 
that it is not so in most cases with the last great act of 
retirement, not from the offices and duties of life, but 
from life itself." 

Brethren, to what far-off sphere of celestial fruition 
may we not, without presumption, in that spirit of faith 
which he so strongly cherished, follow our departed 
associate, and hear again the music of that voice, repeat- 
ing this sentiment, now verified and made certain in the 
supreme experience of that last Sabbath morning] 

Dr. Walker spoke as follows : — 

Mr. President : Leaving it for others to speak of Mr. 
Everett's eminence as a scholar and as a statesman, and 



MEM0R1 W. OF I 1>\V \i:i. 

of the purity and ' if his dail) life, I mis- 

sion bis administration Pi ideut 

■ if 1 1 in ird ' - i -. I believe, a prevailing 

impression in the community, that tin if hi-, public 

ssful than the rest. It so, it is 
imputed, in no small measure, to three causes 
which have hindered his merits and services as 1] 
of the Universitj from being dulj appreciated. 

The first of thi bis known d for tht> 

M us remember, thai when be was appoi 

omraunity were of one mind as to his 
the man to till it. — with a single i xcep- 
t i • • 11 ; hut that was an in. for it 

• •//". This dista entireh overcome; and 

who h istrued it into evidem 

I j might have done so with some 

>h .•.'. . if it had grown up in th< r. in 

that i might .. trded as resulting, at least in 

disappointed hopes. But when it i> 

ml peril 
when I ffice, than when he laid 

it down, there would seem to bono ground for bucIi a 

I which has hindered the publu from 

dulj ting Mr. 1 to the I 

found in the nature of th ms and 

imp, My introduced l>> him. 

\\ • m1 thorough™ tuld 

ud 



64 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

publish, under the proper authorities, a careful revision 
of the college laws. This was a most important and 
necessary work, which cost months of anxious labor ; yet 
not likely to attract public attention, nor even to be known 
beyond the precincts of the University. Again, he be- 
lieved that all improvements in the college, to be of much 
solidity, must have their foundation in its improved moral 
and religious condition. No president ever labored more 
assiduously or more anxiously for this end, nor, consider- 
ing the time occupied, with more success. Indeed, I 
cannot help thinking that it is for the measures he insti- 
tuted or suggested with a view to promote the moral 
elevation of the college, that its friends have most reason 
to hold him in grateful remembrance. Yet these also 
were matters which, from their very nature, did not admit 
of display, and some of them not even of publicity ; nay 
more, in the beginning they were not unlikely to occasion 
some degree of opposition and trouble. 

But the principal cause hindering a due appreciation of 
Mr. Everett's presidency of the college, brief as it was, is 
doubtless this very brevity. If his health had permitted 
him to retain the office ten years, I have no doubt that 
many things which were offensive to him would have 
disappeared. His attention, meanwhile, would have been 
turned to proper academical reforms, noticeable in them- 
selves, and bringing the college into notice by extending 
its influence and fame. And this, together with the just 
pride taken in his distinguisbed name, and the unsur- 
passed dignity with which he represented the University 
on all public occasions, would have made his administra- 



MEMOR] \I. 01 EDWARD l.\ 

tion ' illustrious in the annul- of tl 

IS ill 11- 1 : 

it of lii- pu N ^ i. It would 

then havi a that the first foui tliosc \vl 

w i- r. illy had, were an appropriate and n y intro- 

duction to the whole; and us such, they would ha 
i their full .-hare of tli 

i : — 

i iii/i:n. 

\\ IN 

him no linll bid the leaf unfold ; 

What L , by sudden 

What Bwifll summoned Mei told. 

■ 
Filled with theii all the 

. in thai mournful time, 
II- loin, virl 

What [ 

Till calm-eyed History, r ron pen, 



66 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

Verse that, in ever-changing ebb and flow, 

Moves, like the laboring heart, with rush and rest, 

Or swings in solemn cadence, sad and slow, 
Like the tired heaving of a grief-worn breast. 

This was a mind so rounded, so complete, — 
No partial gift of Nature in excess, — 

That, like a single stream where many meet, 
Each separate talent counted something less. 

A little hillock, if it lonely stand, 

Holds o'er the fields an undisputed reign, 

While the broad summit of the table-land 
Seems with its belt of clouds a level plain. 

Servant of all his powers, that faithful slave, 
Unsleeping Memory, strengthening with his toils, 

To every ruder task his shoulder gave, 
And loaded every day with golden spoils. 

Order, the law of Heaven, was throned supreme 
O'er action, instinct, impulse, feeling, thought; 

True as the dial's shadow to the beam, 

Each hour was equal to the charge it brought. 

Too large his compass for the nicer skill 

That weighs the world of science grain by grain ; 

All realms of knowledge owned the mastering will 
That claimed the franchise of his whole domain. 

Earth, air, sea, sky, the elemental fire, 

Art, history, song, — what meanings lie in each 

Found in his cunning hand a stringless lyre, 

And poured their mingling music through his speech. 



MEMOKIAL 0] I I'W Al:: 

I Bowed tll"-L- ; 1 1 1 1 f 

Wll held :i; 

■ 

\1 ved in all bi i»e human In 

:i- of OnC W ll" ti 

To | 

I I - smile halt' shadow ; and to si 

The k:n_;l\ : wrn. 

1 [e w as i!> 'i m in' '1 to with the storm, 

homely truth with vuljjnr pov 
■ ■ in-, shaped his t"i m, — 

Tli A 

ilar whom wo k' 

111 ! Ill), 

Northern venj ilcw 

1 1. r snow-> • itlicrn palm. 

! we hold I i 

• known, but would not 
Ami look tu lii n I the 

' i 

• I '• ith 
all a Inn.'" honors round li 

mmed tl 

- 

'• 1 1 



68 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. . 

The Hon. Richard H. Dana then spoke as follows : — 

Mr. President : This full tide of grief and admiration 
has carried along with it all there is of eulogy, and there 
seems nothing left for me to-night — not wishing to say 
over what has been so well said — but a single, common- 
place suggestion, exciting no feeling, and entirely below 
the demands of the hour. I would simply remind you, 
brethren, that the fame of Mr. Everett has been fairly 
earned. 

It seems to me that he has earned his fame as fairly as 
the painter, the poet, the sculptor, and the composer earn 
theirs. The artist submits his picture or statue, the 
composer his oratorio, and the poet his epic or lyric to 
the judgment of time, and abides the result. Mr. 
Everett, for fifty years, year by year, submitted to the 
judgment of his age orations, essays, lectures, speeches, 
and diplomatic letters, and abided the result. If the 
judgment has been favorable to him, what can have been 
more fairly earned ? 

It has not only been earned without fraud on the public 
judgment, or mistake or accident, but it has been earned 
in strict compliance with the primeval law of labor — that 
in the sweat of the brow all bread shall be eaten. It has 
not been the result of a few happy strokes of genius. He 
never did anything except with all the might his mind 
and body could lend to it. He was first scholar at Har- 
vard, because four years of competition left him so. If 
he was in anything more learned than other men, it was 
because he did his best with great natural powers. No 



MEMORIAL 

liim tli all. 

\\ men made litl 

He never trusl He i 

little, - any man, to the ; d. M 

derh :n hold 

them wil Hi -' lids upon his work, i 

ud, indeed, hi^ best an 
f a private citizen. "> 
»ne in the monument he has builded to himsell 
a quan i shioned, and p 1 i -1 i<.-tl I 

hand ai 

1 his fame is ;il->> firml) ; tyle 

of thought and ssion in written ad 

nd of familiarity . o 
and ol ty, in >>1(1 communities and in 

ml that whi< li fort) ye irs bi I 

in its 

! schol - found ii 

equal to the 
with • I diplom I " , " 

in of vo tricks i 

I 
Mr. I 

ipplied ' 



70 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

ten the spell of his elocution was as effective as in the 
freshness of his youth or the vigor of his manhood. The 
eloquence which forty and fifty years ago filled Brattle 
Street Church to the window-tops, which, in its new-born 
beauty, charmed the select assemblages at Cambridge, Con- 
cord, and Plymouth, was found in its gray and bent age, 
equal — more equal than any other — to the exigencies 
and shocks of the most vast and momentous popular 
canvass the world ever knew. 

The Hon. B. F. Thomas spoke as follows : — 

Mr. President : If I had consulted my own judgment 
only, it would have been to listen to the gentlemen around 
me, the early, the life-long companions of the illustrious 
dead. I may not claim to have been of Mr. Everett's 
intimate friends. Though I have met him occasionally 
in private life, my means of knowledge are, after all, 
those of a reader and hearer of his public discourse. 
Nor have I, during a portion of his public life, been 
drawn to him by ties of political affinity and sympathy. 
Possibly, following the courtesies of parliamentary assem- 
blies, these considerations may have led to the request 
that I should say a word this evening. 

If the object of these services of commemoration were 
indiscriminate eulogy, the custom were more honored in 
the breach than in the observance ; such service being 
good neither for the dead nor the living. If we had no 
higher or nobler purpose, we might well turn to the 
pressing duties of life and of the hour, and let the dead 
bury their dead. 



MEMORIAL OF EDWARD ', 1 

Bul if we believe the saying of an old hist 
In r . that bistorj is philosophy teaching bj 

ting the godless speculations of Buckle, 
, ignize in history the power and influence of the 

individual spirit ; if we see in the li\<-> of great and g 
men not only a lights on the line- of human pi 

the most efficient of motive powers, the cau 

iod men not onlj make history . but 
constitute h nd the best part .it' historj ; no work 

can ■ approprial historical than the 

commemoration of such a life. 

\~ you well observed, Mr. Pi :sident, the other day in 
Faneuil Hall, ii i h, l< ' mi • ty, so worthj of its 

then know-, hardlj wher< tegin or where 

ad. [f I"' 1 '" 

. that Mr. I is the most accomplish 

our country had produced; of the widest, mosl varied and 
finished cull rhat using th<- word " orator," in the 

e in which it is from classic times, he was 

our most finished " in fertility of n , in apt- 

ness "t" n~>- in manner, in compass and musi 

e, in curious felicity of diction, seldom if ever surpas 
cing tn or pro 

m : but m his bcsl and Imp] 
Uine the lines in which Milton, with su< Ii 
uty, h i '• m, wrapt, entrn 

II from the lip I : — 



72 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

Though it was as a graceful and eloquent orator that 
Mr. Everett was most widely known to his day and gener- 
ation, we feel that in saying this we have not got very near 
to our subject ; that we have not touched upon the lines of 
character which make the life of a great or good man the 
worthy subject of study and contemplation. 

Outside of revelation, Mr. President, men make their 
own gods. They project them from within. They clothe 
them with their own passions, they dwarf them by their 
own infirmities. So it is in the construction of our heroes 
and great men. We not only admire chiefly the qualities 
in which we discover some resemblance to our own ; but 
we are very apt to dwell on them as the salient points of 
character. "We insist upon casting men into the moulds 
of our own minds. This may be natural, but it is neither 
manly nor just. That only is a manly and catholic criti- 
cism which appreciates and admires qualities utterly 
diverse from our own ; which recollects that our antipodes 
stand also on the solid earth ; that there may be diversities 
of gifts but the same spirit, differences of administration 
but the same Lord ; that the eye cannot say to the hand, 
I have no need of thee, nor the head to the feet, I have 
no need of you ; that this diversity of gifts and tendencies 
is part of God's economy for the well-being and progress 
of the race. 

It is by the conflict and balance of forces that the plan- 
ets know their places and " each in his motion like an 
angel sings." A like conflict and balance of forces is the 
law of human life and progress. In the shallow philoso- 
phy of Pope, there is not a shallower commonplace, than 



twist and distort I 

it into fantae but tin 

lies wrapt in the germ, 

. 
men ow all culture and discipline. 

me pan 
trained in tin l>\ the 

same influences, ripened into manhood, tl 

• • in pnl ■ idical, the othei I 

the 

with a child's trust i church. 

In all il partii 

and though thej spring up sometimes foi and 

rv pur] id in their 

found - d and • 

:it aim, 
• 

In ' word Mi. I 

I 
full) >ns which i and 

i true ■ 
I 

d in t fa 
of t 

\\ ■ 

■ 

1 



74 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

religion out of the circle of the human mind. He did 
not exclude from his idea of mental liberty the " liberty 
of obedience ; " the liberty with which Christ makes men 
free. 

Bred in the school of the Puritans, illustrating their 
virtues, admiring their sublime devotion to duty, he could 
not have loved Puritanism the less because it was asso- 
ciated with the venerable past, because time had softened 
and hallowed its more rugged features, because distance 
lent enchantment to the view. 

Bred in a school of politics, which, though of the high- 
est integrity, had strong sectional tendencies, he was 
among the most national of our statesmen. No part of 
the land was shut out from his sympathy and regard. 
His patriotism covered the country, however bounded. 
No word dropped from his lips or pen to promote sec- 
tional hate or strife. His public life was a ministry of 
concord and peace. He understood the compromises of 
the Constitution, and was ready faithfully to abide by 
them. He appreciated and admired this marvellous frame 
of government, by which, for the first time in history, 
central power was reconciled with local independence, the 
immunities of free States with the capacities of a great 
empire. From the first to the last, through evil report 
and through good report, he clung to the Union of these 
States and to the Constitution as its only bond. No man 
labored more earnestly and devotedly to avert the coming 
strife. His dread of civil conflict seemed to wear at times 
almost the aspect of timidity. But if he felt more strongly 
it was because he foresaw more clearly. 



MEMORIAL 01 i:i>\\ ai;i 

\ 
l>v the s d that in the last I 

hi> life hi> opinions had urn il chan; 

that the - of thi 

propitiation and ent for those that h 

of public policj developed by Mr. 

I rett within the last two years did immand mj 

:,t. That was equally true with - lier 

opinions. Bui [ can see no ry < onflict b< tw 

Mi. Everett 1 u, the life-long de- 

■ • • I nion and the Constitution, and M 
the r of a war to - 

that Union and < "onstitution. Difl 

to what might I '1 by fo inns might be the 

It ,,f (1 ondition of the country . in the 

unity of sentiim nt and action in tlio lo; Stal What 

•■> him impossible in 1861, might, from 

ir arms, seem feasible in 1864 v that he 

>e impolitic at th<- first period m m t<> 

liini • by tin- neci ond. 

I u ked i ' princip 

: him <■- 
policy while adhering t<> hi views, 

hi from tli' ' 
ds. 
II- hall prompt, h uphold 

\\ ■ 



76 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

conciliation, to the victories of peace. Nor will we forget 
how, at the first glimpse of opportunity, he turned to his 
first love ; how, when the cry of suffering came from a 
conquered city, his heart went out to meet and to help it ; 
how naturally he recurred to the power of Christian sym- 
pathies and kindness ; how the hlessed words of the 
royal preacher of Israel sprung to his lips, " If thine 
enemy hunger, feed him ; if he thirst, give him drink." 

Blessed close of a great and good life. Blessed privi- 
lege to forget for a moment the horrors and glories even 
of war, the shouts and waving banners of triumph, to sit 
again at the feet of the Divine Master, to lean upon his 
bosom, to be kindled by and to radiate his divine love. 

Hon. James Savage made the following remarks : — 

Mr. President: I am a little surprised to be called up ; 
and yet, sir, as the catalogue of the Society shows, Mr. 
Everett's name stood next to mine, I hope I may be ex- 
cused if the infirmity of age is more apparent than any- 
thing else in what I say. I can refer to the early days of 
Mr. Everett, which has not been more than once alluded 
to, and that before he had adopted the resolution of taking 
the profession of a preacher of the Everlasting Gospel. 
In this he was most eminently successful, and before that 
I remember well, sir, that the boy was father to the man. 

No one who then looked at him and heard him, would 
have failed to foretell the success which attended him. Of 
Mr. Everett, I supposse it can be said as of other men, 
that he touched nothing that he did not adorn. I cannot 



MEMORIAL 

eive von the Latin, sir, hut it 

illustrati human city, [t m 

: rable. When I h ad I had tin 

great attention from Mr. I When their chief 

-man. Sir Robert Pei 1. « is suddenly stricken down 

l.\ instant death — ami when ti. I A 

another great friend of <>ui' country, - >1 him, • 

tiiui untain nil our just rights at with 

rights of his own country, — 1 had tb 

•in:,' at Mr. Everett's, more than once or twi< 

of the i ad, chieflj official ; 

and there to that no man of their own 

inclined to presume upon 

that d. II 

public in pri well as in public. I helieve that 

our country has never I ior minister anywl 

at an I onlj \\ ish that our pr< 

my younger friend, may make Sir. I 

II a. Emory Washburn addressed i!. 

Mi:. I' I shall a such i 

holar, for I should 
feel that .' upon ground 

which would In- bo much more pro hj 

: will ti sit of m\ dwcll- 

upon ti; hiih hi iii the 

tion in I "ii him 



78 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

the nicer shades of character which intimacy alone en- 
ables one to analyze and trace. The most I can hope to 
do, is to give, in general terms, the results upon my own 
mind of the observation of more than forty years, chiefly, 
of his public life. And yet I have too often shared in 
his acts of personal kindness and courtesy, not to feel that 
I have a right to speak, also, of some of those traits of 
private character which stand out so prominently in the 
history of his life. 

The impression which my study and observation of Mr. 
Everett's career have left most strongly defined upon my 
own mind, is its harmony and completeness in all its parts 
and characteristic qualities. In no field of honor or use- 
fulness which he was called- upon to occupy, did he ever 
fail to meet its reasonable requirements, nor did he ever 
shrink from the labor which its duties imposed. Many 
men have been great in one department of intellectual 
power or excellence, without possessing any claims to 
distinction in any other. Some cultivate one set of their 
powers or faculties, at the expense of the others. And of 
many, the judgments which we form, are but the balanc- 
ing of one quality against another, the good against the 
evil, in order to ascertain at what point in the scale of 
moral worth we are to place them, in the estimate which 
we form of their character. The great warrior may be 
the brutal tyrant or the sordid miser. The brilliant poet 
may not soar above the atmosphere of his own vices, and 
the splendid orator while arousing and wielding the pas- 
sions of others, at his will, may be the veriest slave of 
his own. Examples like these serve to mark the contrast 



MEMORIAL 

of g 

whom the world h i- called I 

1; ii in the lit"'' of M .iiv 

I 

institution of hi- min 
aud striking qualities, but 

lancing these qualities 
elutive rank 
of merit in which he is I r t" be held in the judgment 

of posteritj .11 r in this r< 

well in it- p 
in the relati* i other. 

. hich in . who knew M i . 

Everetl "/'• if • 

whir!: to his life and that 

in which r< difficult, as we 

j which of the traits for which he 

• prominently upon the 

Ti. ing 

indistinct, from I bj which to bring 

,,iit • der i'h' i'. I I ■■■ i th( •• bolar at 

i o( 
-man ;ind the dip! 

manj y< lis life, 

nd. He was the ( 'In; 
— and he won all, the 

a whidi of th< hi- 

in anj vhi« Ii h 

' . I 



80 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIEIY. 

there would have been, in the graces and accomplish- 
ments which he would have brought to its duties, enough 
to have given to his life in that sphere, the seeming 
finish of completeness. This is what I mean by that 
filling up which gave such an admirable fulness and 
consistency of proportion, in his character and life. 

I might illustrate this thought further by referring to 
what is familiar, perhaps, to us all. It is more than forty 
years since I first heard him in the pulpit. I need not 
say with how much delight I listened to the rich and 
varied thought, the beauty of diction, the inimitable power 
of description, the affluence of illustration, and the pathos 
of appeal which gave so much life to his sermons of that 
day. These qualities of high pulpit oratory may not 
have been peculiar to him. But there was added to 
these, a beauty of countenance, a grace in action, a 
sweetness in voice, and an impressive, though almost 
measured modulation in tone and cadence, which left 
upon the mind of the hearer the conviction that he was 
unsurpassed as a rhetorician and an orator. 

I afterwards heard him on the floor of Congress, and 
there he was no less at home than in the pulpit. And 
the dignity of his bearing, the mastery he showed of his 
subject, and the eloquence of the language he uttered, 
commanded the willing attention of that body, while it 
was yet dignified by men of eloquence and a national 
fame. 

We all know how faithfully and conscientiously he 
performed the duties of the Executive of this Common- 
wealth. Nothing was left undone which courtesv, or 



M 

kind lt his I' 

• 

the pardon of 
thosi 

in all their I 

manner in which he bore lii- 
James, and c of Mr. W 

our Ameri( ' " W shii gton. 

And in this, I do not mean to r< much to 

exhibitions of ^kill and power as n diplomatist and a 
• • the qualitii h belonged to him ; 

llj as a man, and which helped to I fill up 

the in' nsure of his 

■ • 
alluded, ma) perhaj in the personal 

qualities which libited in th 

We h d him call I in his sympath 

and Q his iuten oursc with otlu 

and ! ill I knew him, I thought his 

Bui I );■ ed in this 

■ 
e in direel with him, eithi ly, or in 

I 
his thai shrinki 

which i 

will ventun that n<> 

kind I, and found hii 

Hi 

■ 



82 MASSACHUSETTS HISTOMCAL SOCIETY. 

influence he may have been. He never was surpassed in 
the scrupulous punctuality with which he replied to a 
correspondent, however unimportant the subject addressed 
to him, nor in the indulgence with which he received 
and the kindness with which he acknowledged, the well 
intended but often equivocal favor of printed works and 
papers, with which authors loaded his table and taxed his 
time — the thing he was the least able to spare. 

The kindliness of his nature was manifested in a 
hundred different forms, though rarely so as to attract the 
observation or applause of others. In all the trying situa- 
tions in which he was placed, at times, censured by party 
antagonism, misconstrued in his motives and his acts, and 
smarting under the keen rebuke of public disfavor, I do 
not believe any one ever saw him lose the dignity of his 
self possession, or heard him indulge in harsh or uncour- 
teous language towards his bitterest opponent. 

Nor will the world ever know how often the deserving 
young man, struggling with adverse circumstances, has 
found in him, what he needed more than money — a wise 
counsellor and a kind friend. Hundreds could now tell 
us how he sought them out, aided and encouraged them, 
and helped them onward in a career of usefulness and 
honor. While his body lay waiting for that august 
solemnity in which a whole city, and, I might add, a State 
and Nation bore a part, the door bell of his house was 
rung, and, upon its being opened, there stood upon the 
threshold a young man, a stranger, in the dress of a 
junior officer in the navy. He asked permission to come 
in and look, once more, upon the foim and face of Mr. 



MEMOR] U. OF 1 l'W IRD 

:t. •• I atn b 
man in atl "but Mr. ] 

I ever had : be I now Ik 

from that day i 

couragemenl and a< Ithough I had no claim u 

lil— kind 

( >t" lii< ai : r of w isdom or l< 

worldl) s kindh r « ithlield, 

\\ hi a a] ■ merit and 

I di sir< word upon another enor 

into which the public mind may have naturallj fallen. 
Wh or delivered \\a>. uniforn 

nd lang - well as in 

thought, that an impression I" ral that he had 

1 i 1 1 1 • . and tli it, in o 

sion, he must have timi 
d. In the danger which he had to i with, of 

• for a rival, he was, undoubtedly, lol 
k with ' on. I'.ut his t'i iends 

■ tat he ' only a man of ready and stii 

but that, with all the ms, and 

manj of his i 
and public addresses, he had a fund ol iitlv 

wit, ul humor, and apt and gentle . which, 

It might 

iwn hit 
ik, notli d to 



S4 MASSACHUSETTS HISTOKICAL SOCIETY. 

fill up and round out a life of so much active usefulness 
and honor. 

But do we not all feel, now, how much it would have 
wanted, if it had lacked the finish with which the history of 
the last four years has crowned and completed the work 1 
Nobody had a right to doubt the honesty and sincerity of 
his convictions and opinions, however much one may 
have differed from him in the matters of public policy. 
But he saw the coming of that dreadful storm which has 
been sweeping over our country, and, like many other 
true patriots, he was willing to avert it by a conciliatory 
policy, though, by so doing, he subjected himself to the 
imputation of timidity or want of heart. But when he 
saw that the scheme of the conspirators was not to secure 
the rights which were theirs, but to usurp those to which 
they had no claim; when he saw that the purpose at 
which they aimed was not peace, but the overthrow, by 
war, of the Government under which our country had 
grown great and prosperous and happy, he threw the full 
weight of his accumulated power of intellect and influ- 
ence into the struggle, and, in the forgetfulness of old 
opinions and cherished associations, he gave up to his 
country the stores of learning, the resources of eloquence, 
and the gathered energies of an entire life devoted to 
diligence and duty. Men no longer called him timid, for 
he showed that he had that highest of all courage, which 
dares to go against one's own prepossessions and uttered 
opinions, when in the light of present events, he looks 
back upon the unintentional mistakes of the past. The 
nation, the world itself looked on with admiration, as this 



MKMORI \I. OF I UW 

brave old champion in th( 

battle by his trumpet call to >lut \ and to arms 
thej fell that his record w plete, his life roun 

out inti> the full proportions of Christian manlin 
when he uttered that last noble appeal iwn the 

triumphs of a nation's - by the divine m mity 

that • ir enemy and carries him comfort in the hour 

of prostration and distn 

\\ til s( nding upon that loft) eminence «>f fame 
which a 1< >n^r and arduous life of noble had 

■ 1 him, it was a kind Providence that -pared him 
from even th bilit) ol iming mis 

prehension or mistake. He laid bj hi- an the 

dows had dimmed a -ir. m of it- bright- 

But ' not t'> his resl till his last day's work 

fullj and nobly accomplished. He put <>tf" the _ 
which In- had worn amid the dust and toil of an ever 
t »?i - \ lit"- ken to a new e where, while the 

future can never be clouded bj thi- 
ol human 

judgment 

The fame which, till then, had been in his own k- 
i 1 1 lt - he left in charge of the country he b long 

n we '! it the trust will i'dl) 

kepi ' I ■ y will i nd monumi 

thej will do mon . Thej will k. ■ onu- 

menta and m< i by < hcrishing the moi 

win. in tti. \ at ■!. in til 

It will !»•■ r illusl the imm 



86 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

which the fame of a truly great man lends to the works 
of art, by which men seek to perpetuate the memory of 
the dead. The chisel of the artist may bring out from 
the marble the form and features of one whom pride or 
affection may seek to honor. But it is, at last, to history 
that we must look, to interpret the record which sculp- 
ture may have tried to register. 

You, sir, beautifully reminded us, on another occasion, 
of the search of the Roman orator amongst the rank 
weeds and gathered rubbish of the cemetery of Syracuse, 
for the forgotten monument of Archimedes, while you 
reminded his countrymen that the great American Philos- 
opher and Statesman, till then, had no memorial of art 
reared to him, even in the city where he was born. 
But though they answered that appeal with a generous 
alacrity, the enduring bronze of which his speaking 
statue is fashioned by the skilful cunning of art, would 
do little to keep his memory alive for the service of pos- 
terity, if his name had not been enrolled among the great 
names that shed lustre upon the pages of his country's 
history. 

So it will be with the statue which, as we trust, a 
gratified people will place by the side of his great com- 
patriot, in the front of our Capitol. It is fitting that it 
should stand there, a memorial, immortal in the light of 
history, of the man, and of a people's gratitude. The 
name of Everett, repeated to the inquirer in after ages, 
will reanimate that form, and it will speak of the scholar, 
the statesman, the orator, the patriot, and the Christian 



MOUIAI. 

tleman, to whom it shall li i 
that knew, and lovi <1 him. 

The I ^ '■ the i'"ll i 

from - 1 G W I ' . 

( Ihonning, whi i said of Mr. Whiti 
century :i_'" : '* II from the soul with il, 

nt prophet. And I 
it of all who kuow him." 

Ami SB! \.\ . -Til, 1 -t Month, 1 - 

Mv dear Friend: I acknowledge through th 
invitation of the standing committee of the M iss u hu 
Uisto v « ill meeting of 

for the purpose of paying a tri the 

memorj of our 1 ^<- illu Edward 1 

It . . ,, ,| iat t i,,. .. , I1V 

Ith will not permit me to be with you on an o 

much interest. 
[I Is : •• • •• g that the meml the II: 

Id their tril 
which 1. ■ '1 bj :ill Beets, pai I 

ime and fame of their 1 it 
!l himself a maker of history, and part and 

|] tin- : I human urlu- 

d time. 
\\ hen the him who added new lu 

to th<- old and honored nai Q 

\'w'. I dward I 

ho, ..utli\iii^' .ill ill 
and jealous) and part) |> hold I 



88 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

by the secure tenure of the universal appreciation of its 
worth as a common treasure of the republic. It is not 
for me to pronounce his eulogy. Others, better qualified 
by their intimate acquaintance with him, have done and 
will do justice to his learning, eloquence, varied culture, 
and social virtues. My secluded country life has afforded 
me few opportunities of personal intercourse with him, 
while my pronounced radicalism, on the gieat question 
which has divided popular feeling, rendered our political 
paths widely divergent. Both of us early saw the danger 
which threatened the country. In the language of the 
prophet, we "saw the sword coming upon the land," but 
while he believed in the possibility of averting it by 
concession and compromise, I, on the contrary, as firmly 
believed that such a course could only strengthen and 
confirm what I regarded as a gigantic conspiracy against 
the rights and liberties, the union and the life, of the 
nation. 

Recent events have certainly not tended to change this 
belief on my part ; but in looking over the past, while I 
see little or nothing to retract in the matter of opinion, I 
am saddened by the reflection, that through the very 
intensity of my convictions I may have done injustice to 
the motives of those with whom I differed. As respects 
Edward Everett, it seems to me that only within the last 
four years I have truly known him. 

In that brief period, crowded as it is with a whole 
life-work of consecration to the union, freedom, and 
glory of his country, he not only commanded respect 
and reverence, but concentrated upon himself in a most 



: DWARD 

remarkable the love of ill l<>\al and generous 

hearts. We h iv< sei n, in these years of trial, \' rj g 
sacrii d upon the altar of patriotism — wealth, 

. home-love, life itself. Bui Edward Everett tli«l 
more than this; he laid on that altar n<>t only his time, 
talents, and culture, but his pride <>f opinion, 1 * i — l< 
cherished views of policy, his personal and polil 
predilections and prejudices, bis constitutional fastidious- 
. iti-in. and the carefully i \ m- 

metry of his public reputation. Wit! id nnble 

magnanimity, he met, without hesitation, the demand of 
the great occasion. Breaking away from all 1 1 • - 

and association, h I the things that 

are behind, and, with an eye single to pn duty, 

Is the mark of the high calling "t" 
Providence in the events of our time. All honor 
to him ! It" we mourn that h< d the r< 

ir i r human praise, let u> reverently trust that he 

I that higher plaudit: "Well done, th 
and faithful • ! " 

When I last met him, as my colleague in th 1 
Col] bis look of health and vigor 

un m ay y< irs of his wisdom and 
usefulm ting him I fell imp( 11< d 

mj admiral 

■ .; I :. dily and gi 

fully he tun n t"r"m hims< It" to th- 

in whit h mmon I expressed his 

thankfulness that he had still a 



9() MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 

privilege and a duty. That stainless life of seventy years 
is a priceless legacy. His hands were pure. The shadow 
of suspicion never fell on him. If he erred in his 
opinions (and that he did so, he had the Christian grace 
and courage to own), no selfish interest weighed in the 
scale of his judgment against truth. 

As our thoughts follow him to his last resting-place, 
we are sadly reminded of his own touching lines, written 
many years ago at Florence. The name he has left 
behind is none the less " pure " that instead of being 
" humble," as he then anticipated, it is on the lips of 
"rateful millions, and written ineffaceably on the record 
of his country's trial and triumph : — 

" Yet not for me when I shall fall asleep 
Shall Santa Croce's lamps their vigils keep; 
Beyond the main in Auburn's quiet shade, 
With those I loved and love my couch be made ; — 
Spring's pendent branches o'er the hillock wave, 
And morning's dewdrops glisten on my grave, 
While Heaven's great arch shall rise above my bed, 
When Santa Croce's crumbles on her dead — 
Unknown to erring or to suffering fame, 
So I may leave a pure though humble name " 

Congratulating the Society on the prospect of the speedy 
consummation of the great objects of our associate's 
labors — the peace and permanent union of our country, — 
I am very truly thy friend, 

JOHN G. WHITTIER 
Robert C. Waterston, Boston. 
The meeting then adjourned. 



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